


Choices

by themadmage



Series: Choices [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Angry Harry Potter, Bad Death Eaters, Bad Decisions, Bad Voldemort, Dark, Dark Harry Potter, Death Eater Draco Malfoy, Death Eater Harry Potter, Death Eater crimes such as torture rape and murder, F/M, Gen, Het, Just in case it's unclear Voldemort will not be reformed and Harry is joining him, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, One Night Stand, There is no Happy Ending Here, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, Underage Smoking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, harry joins voldemort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2019-06-21 13:28:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 34
Words: 44,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15558741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themadmage/pseuds/themadmage
Summary: Harry Potter's choices have always been restricted to almost nothing. After learning that he is the subject of a prophecy, he wants desperately to be able to choose something for himself - even if he knows it's the wrong choice.





	1. The Choice

_"It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."_

Harry remembered Dumbledore telling him this at the end of his second year, after he had faced Tom Riddle in the Chamber and rescued Ginny. At the time, it had been a comfort. He snorted bitterly at remembering. How many choices, important ones, had he truly made up until that point? How many had he made since? At the Dursleys he had always been backed into a corner, following the only path that led to his continued survival. When he tried to leave there, asking at the end of his first year about other possibilities, his choice had been denied. He had argued with the Sorting Hat, yes, but avoiding Slytherin house had not been a conscious choice. It had been a fear, or a hope. And is "not Slytherin" really a choice when he hadn't asked for any alternative? Going after the stone, going into the Chamber of Secrets, fighting to save his godfather - all false choices. Technically he chose to do them, yes, but not doing them would have been disastrous and it had been clear that no one else was going to step in. The entire Triwizard Tournament debacle had been entirely against his will. And now-

Going to the Department of Mysteries after Sirius. Had that been a choice? Harry supposed it was similar to his choices in previous years - his hand had been forced if he hadn't wanted disaster to strike, his godfather to be lost. Anger burned in him when he thought about the fact that he had lost Sirius anyway. He had made what seemed like the only possible choice, and things had still turned out badly. Well.

Now, Harry sat in Headmaster Dumbledore's office and was told that he was the subject of a prophecy. Harry's heart sank. Did he even have free will, at this point? Neither can live while the other survives, it said. That didn't even give him good odds, honestly. Voldemort was older, stronger, and more educated than Harry. The prophecy wasn't that Harry  _would_ defeat him. Only that he  _could_.

 

Harry left the Headmaster's office, retrieved his invisibility cloak, and headed straight to the library. He needed to know about prophecies, and the Hogwarts Express was leaving very soon. He needed to know how binding they were, if he would ever really be able to choose his own destiny. He found several books in the Divination section, and copied them all with a duplication spell. The duplicates were inferior. Out of spite, Harry put those back on the shelf and took the originals with him back to Gryffindor Tower. 

He read all night, and learned that prophecies were completely binding so long as the subjects of the prophecies put belief into them. If the prophecy was unknown to its subjects, it would most likely come to pass. However, if the subject of the prophecy knew its wording and chose to disregard it then the prophecy could be broken. Harry was fully willing to disregard this prophecy. He, quite simply, did not want to die and feared that he would if he stayed on the course of following it. In order to break the prophecy, though, Voldemort would also have to disregard it.

Voldemort clearly put some stock into it, since it had prompted him to hunt Harry for his entire life. Convincing him otherwise was almost a laughable thought. Once again, Harry felt like he was in a position of a false choice. He remembered the results of his last false choice, how he still had not gotten what he wanted, and made up his mind.

In Harry's first year, Voldemort had entreated him to give him the stone and join him. At the time, it had seemed like a false choice. How could he ever join the madman who killed his parents and tried to kill him? Voldemort probably hadn't even been serious in the offer, only trying to manipulate a child. Still, Harry was older now and more powerful, and he was subject of a prophecy that would end one of them if they didn't break it. He would go to Voldemort, Harry decided, and try to convince him to break the prophecy. If that meant joining him, then so be it. If Voldemort kills Harry instead of listening to him, at least he will have  _tried_ to choose his own destiny. 

 

Choosing to approach Voldemort was one thing. Figuring out how to go about that was another entirely. Harry sequestered himself away from Ron and Hermione on the train to think. Assuming he was lost in grief over his godfather, which Harry honestly hadn't even had time to address in his mind while consumed by this prophecy, they gave him his space. Alone in a compartment, Harry brooded and struggled to think of a solution. He was half tempted to send the man a bloody owl, if only that wouldn't put Hedwig at risk, when an opportunity presented itself. Malfoy's sneering voice came from outside the compartment, and Harry threw open the door. 

"Malfoy. I want to talk to you."

The blonde Slytherin sneered at Harry. "Come to gloat about my father, Potter? Hex me? Save it."

"No, that isn't exactly it." Harry held out his wand. Malfoy drew his own in response, ready to cast, when he realized that Harry's wand was extended to him handle first. "Come inside my compartment, alone, and talk to me. You can hold my wand. I know you have no reason to trust me." Malfoy was so flabbergasted by Harry's surrender of his wand that he did so without a word. Harry closed and locked the compartment door. "Cast a silencing ward? I can't have anyone overhearing this."

Malfoy cast  _silencio,_ creating a barrier for sound between them and the rest of the train. Harry took a deep breath.

"Your father is a Death Eater. Will your family have contact with Voldemort over the holiday?"

The blonde scowled impressively. "Why should I tell you, Potter? So you can get my Mother arrested too?"

Harry sighed. "No. I want to talk to him."

" _Talk?_ " 

"Yes. Talk. I realize he's as likely to kill me as he is to listen to me, but I know what your father and the others were after at the Ministry so that should at least buy me some time. What happens after I tell him will depend on him."

Malfoy only looked at Harry incredulously. "You're no match for the Dark Lord, Potter. If he decides he wants to kill you he will."

Harry nodded. "So if you arrange for me to talk to him, Voldemort could easily win the war. Probably will, in all honesty. That can only be good for your family, since your father works for him."

"What on Merlin's earth could you want to talk to the Dark Lord about, _Saint Potter_ , that makes you willing to lose the war for all your blood traitor and mudblood friends?"

Harry winced at the language, but knew he would have to get used to it where he was headed. "If I tell you, then you have no reason to help me. What will it take for you to do this?"

Malfoy thought for a moment. "A truth spell. It's easier to fight than veritaserum, and illegal, but it will at least tell me that you're serious about this." Harry nodded his consent, and Malfoy cast _Veritas disceris_. "Why do you want to talk to the Dark Lord?"

Harry felt a gentle compulsion to tell the truth. He wouldn't be able to lie, but he could conceal details he didn't want to share. "I want to be able to make my own choices badly enough to die trying. Dumbledore isn't going to let me do that."

"What do you want to talk to the Dark Lord about?"

"The prophecy that the Death Eaters were meant to retrieve from the Department of Mysteries."

"What makes you think you'll survive this?"

"Voldemort wants the prophecy, and I know it. I also know how to break it, which will benefit us both."

Malfoy looked like he wanted to continue questioning Harry, but wasn't sure what to ask. After a few moments of hesitation, he cast  _finite_ and cut off the truth spell. "I expect I'll be seeing several high ranking Death Eaters this summer, if not the Dark Lord himself. I will try to make arrangements for you to talk to him. How should I contact you?"

Harry grimaced. "It's not really the sort of thing that should be put in writing, but I can't think of another way besides an owl for you to tell me. If you manage it, send me a meeting place that I can take the Knight Bus to and the time to be there. But push the day back by one in case one of Dumbledore's or the Ministry's people see the message and try to intervene. That way they'll be too late. I'll send a reply so that you know I've gotten the message. It'll say something no one knows about me, but I'll tell you now, so you'll know it's me replying."

Malfoy nodded, clearly trying to process all of this. 

"The hat wanted me for Slytherin."

"You're very paranoid, Potter."

"Malfoy, for years I've been warned that people might be reading my mail. I'm kept completely in the dark about what's going on in the Wizarding world during the summers because of it. I've had time to develop this paranoia."

"I'll owl you, then."

The Slytherin then left without waiting for a reply, and Harry was left alone again. Now that he had a solution to his first big choice, he thought he'd choose a nap. 


	2. The Meeting

The owl from Malfoy came just three days into the summer, carried by a regal looking bird. Harry snorted, knowing that wouldn't go unnoticed. Luckily, the people he needed to hide this meeting from had less of a penchant for illegally intercepting mail than the ones he'd worried about the last few years.  _Saturday 11 p.m. Malfoy Manor_ was all it said. So Harry needed to take the Knight Bus to Malfoy Manor on Friday night. He scribbled the code phrase he'd told Malfoy on the bottom of the same parchment, using half a pencil he'd found under the bed, and sent it back with the same bird. 

 

Harry left at 10:30 on Friday without difficulty, carrying only his wand and the book that told him how to break a prophecy. The Knight Bus conductor gave him an odd look when he said his destination was Malfoy Manor, but an additional few Galleons convinced the seedy looking man not to ask any further questions. Harry was let out at an imposing iron gate after a short, chaotic ride. Once the bus left, a house elf appeared on the other side of the gate.

"Biddy is to be taking Mr. Harry Potter sir to the study. Follow me, sir." the terrified elf said as the gate swung open. Harry, not one for second guessing his impulses, followed without hesitation. He was left in front of an ornate wooden door, which was closed. He knocked, and heard a terrifyingly familiar voice tell him to enter. Harry did, keeping his eyes down. It wouldn't do to look like he was challenging Voldemort by coming here. 

"Harry Potter. I confess I was suspicious when I heard you wanted to speak to me. Young Mister Malfoy said some very interesting things, however, that have convinced me to stay my wand for the moment. Speak."

"Yes, sir." Harry said, as sincerely as he could manage. "After I returned to school from the Ministry last week, Dumbledore told me the full prophecy. Until that night, I hadn't known a prophecy existed. I don't like being the subject of a prophecy, and I want to break it."

"Break the prophecy?"

"Yes, sir." Again, Harry was careful to keep any sarcasm or anger out of his tone. "I wanted to know how much the prophecy actually restricted my free will and I did some research. Prophecies are fueled by belief and chance. If we both know the full text of the prophecy, and choose to disregard it, it no longer has any power over us. As long as one of us still believes in it, however, it will come to pass."

"I have not studied Divination. How do I know this is not a trick?"

"I've brought the book with me, sir."

"Give it to me."

Harry took the book from his pocket. He'd shrunken it before leaving school, in order to fit it into his trunk, and luckily the shrinking charm had held this long. "The page is marked, sir."

Voldemort scanned the page in the book that Harry had left off on, and snapped it shut. "That is ludicrously simple, but it is sound. Very well, Potter. Tell me the prophecy."

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. The Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he shall have a power the Dark Lord knows not. Either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."

"And what is this power I know not?"

Harry couldn't prevent a bitter snort at this point. "Dumbledore thinks that it's love, sir."

"The coot thinks that _love_ will defeat me?" Voldemort asked, disgust painted on his snake-like features.

"And he is prepared to pit me against you with only that as my armor, as part of a prophecy which says I  _might_ win. That is why I'm here, sir."

"Elaborate."

"If the prophecy isn't broken, I'm certain I will die. I have only survived as long as I have because I've been lucky, and had help. Dumbledore has no intention of helping me to defeat you. Therefore, he's leading me to my death and I'm being given no  _choice_ in the matter. I've never been given choices. That's what frustrates me the most, sir."

"Breaking the prophecy would indeed give you choice. What would you do with that choice, Mr. Potter?"

"Ideally, sir, I'd prefer not to fight at all."

"And if I require you to join me in order to break the prophecy?"

"Then I would be willing, sir. If that's what it will take to have my free will."

Voldemort nodded, pensive. "I think I will claim you as one of mine, if I do decide to break the prophecy rather than simply killing you now. I may not call on you much for combat, however. Your involvement with me remaining a secret would be a better strategic move." Harry nodded, having expected this. Voldemort was not the kind of man to give Harry his free will for nothing in return. He may be using that free will to sign himself up to take orders, but that was his  _choice_. "I will require an Unbreakable Vow from you not to go against our arrangement. I will give you the same, I do not expect you to trust me."

Voldemort called for the house elf that had met Harry. "Fetch Severus." The elf disappeared immediately, and a tense minute later there was a knock at the study door. "Enter, Severus."

The door opened, and Professor Snape walked in. When his eyes landed on Harry, standing opposite the Dark Lord and not dead or bound, his alarm was clear on his face. "My Lord," he said as he bowed his head.

"Severus. Mr. Potter and I are in need of a binder for an Unbreakable Vow."

The look of alarm intensified, and he turned his head to Harry almost unwillingly. Harry met his gaze without flinching. He refused to second guess himself at this point. "Do you know what you are doing, Potter?" he asked with a sneer. The statement could be interpreted in multiple ways.

"Actually, sir," Harry said neutrally, "I'm not familiar with how an Unbreakable Vow works, so that part is a bit of a mystery to me."

Snape looked to the Dark Lord, who nodded for him to explain. "An Unbreakable Vow is a magical promise which binds your life to an oath. Should you ever willingly break the Vow, you will instantly die. To make one requires a binder, a third mage to cast the spell, and the Vow must be sworn in three parts."

Voldemort nodded. "For yours Mr. Potter, I will ask you to swear that you will disregard the prophecy, that you will never attempt to kill me by your action or inaction, and that you will never betray me."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied. Snape looked absolutely stricken.

"I shall also swear to disregard the prophecy, and to never attempt to kill you by action or inaction. I have not yet determined the third piece of my Vow, however. You see, Mr. Potter, everyone has two prices. The first will buy their grudging obedience - for you that price is your freedom from the prophecy. The second will buy their loyalty. Tell me, Mr. Potter. What would it take for you to be truly loyal to me?"

Harry was startled, and had to think. "The safety of my friends, sir, during and after this war."

Voldemort was unsurprised. "I will agree not to target three people of your choosing. Should they meet me or my Death Eaters in battle themselves, I cannot agree not to defend vigorously. Dumbledore cannot be one of your choices."

"He wouldn't be," Harry replied with a bitter anger. "I choose Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and- Remus Lupin."

"Very well, then. Severus, the Vows. Mr. Potter will make his first."

Snape took out his wand, and Voldemort reached out for Harry's hand. Once their wrists were clasped, they spoke the three part Vow. Harry watched a string of light wrap around their wrists and sink in with each uttered phrase. When Harry's Vow was complete, they did not drop hands. Immediately, Voldemort made his own Vow. Harry was honestly surprised that the Dark Lord made the Vow, but was pleased. Once the Dark Lord's Vow was complete, he released his grip on Harry's arm. Both wizards were able to feel a sort of a thread snap. The prophecy was broken.

"I am calling a meeting. Severus, your arm."

Professor Snape rolled up his left sleeve, and Voldemort pressed his wand tip to the Dark Mark that laid there. Harry contrasted the sight with his experience a year ago, in the graveyard. He didn't feel the same fear, he even felt some relief. Death Eaters also did not immediately start appearing as they had that day. "My Lord, should I escort Potter to the ballroom or leave him with you?"

"Escort him, and leave him in the antechamber for the moment. Send young Mister Malfoy there, as well."

"Yes, My Lord."

Professor Snape took Harry by the upper arm, his grip bruising, and swept from the room. "What the  _hell_ are you doing, Potter?" he hissed.

"Exactly what it looks like, sir."

"You would decide the war in favor of your parents' killer to be free of a prophecy?"

"Yes, sir. I don't like having my free will restricted by words said before I was born."

"You realize you are signing up to follow another's orders?"

"Yes, sir. I'm not stupid. But at least this is my choice, even if it's a bad one."

"Merlin, save us," Professor Snape muttered under his breath. They reached the antechamber near the ballroom, and Professor Snape pushed Harry roughly in the doorway.

 

Harry waited alone in the small room until Malfoy arrived. Malfoy raised one eyebrow. "How did your talk with the Dark Lord go?"

The dark-haired teen surprised them both with a genuine smile. "Better than could be expected."

The two fell silent, but didn't have to wait long before the door into the ballroom swung open and a low-ranking Death Eater gestured them inside. They were led to the front of the room where the Dark Lord stood. Malfoy fell to his knees before the man without prompting, and Harry followed hastily. As his identity was realized, a murmur of surprised rippled through the assembly.

"Today, I Mark two new Death Eaters. Mr. Malfoy has helped to bring Harry Potter to our cause, and with Mr. Potter's marking the war is practically won. Tonight is cause for celebration. Mr. Malfoy first. Rise, Draco."

"Yes, My Lord," he said as he got to his feet. 

"As your initiation, you must kill one of our enemies. Bella, bring in the first prisoner."

Bellatrix Lestrange gleefully moved to the ballroom door and dragged in a bound man. Harry didn't recognize him, and assumed he was a muggle. Malfoy looked nervous but determined as he drew his wand. He cast the killing curse at the man, and he was dead in an instant. Harry forced himself to watch, knowing it was his turn next. 

"Good, Draco. Kneel before me and present your arm."

Malfoy dropped back to his knees, and rolled up his left sleeve. Voldemort pressed his wand tip to the skin of Malfoy's forearm and the boy made an utterance of pain, clearly trying to repress it. The Mark oozed out into his pale skin, perfectly forming the skull and snake. When it was finished, Malfoy dropped his arm and bowed his head. Voldemort did not deign to acknowledge him further.

"And now, it is time for Mr. Potter to prove himself. Bella, the next prisoner."

Harry almost breathed a sigh of relief when this was also not someone he recognized. His victim was younger than Malfoy's - a girl about their age. If she was a witch, he'd recognize her from Hogwarts. He drew his wand and considered for a moment. His attempt to use the cruciatus curse on Bellatrix hadn't worked in the Department of Mysteries. He doubted he could gather enough loathing to cast an Unforgivable on a stranger if he hadn't been able to do it to her, and he wasn't about to fail at it in front of the entire assembly of Death Eaters. He aimed his wand at her head and cast  _reducto_ , causing it to explode violently. His stomach twisted and he tasted bile, but he didn't flinch.

The Dark Lord smiled cruelly. "Good, Harry. Kneel before me and present your arm."

Harry took the same position he'd seen Draco take moments earlier, and watched as Voldemort pressed his wand tip to his forearm. The Mark burned as it went in, but not nearly so much as the cruciatus curse he'd felt a year ago, or even as much as some of the abuse he'd faced with the Dursleys. He took the pain silently, his face unchanged. 

The Dark Lord addressed the crowd of Death Eaters again, boasting the victory they would soon have. He warned them away from Harry's chosen three, then dismissed them. "Harry, Severus, and the Malfoys, stay." Once the room cleared, he addressed his two newest Death Eaters.

"When you are called, the Mark will burn and you will receive an image of where you are to travel to. The longer you take to respond to the call, the more the burning will intensify. Here are your masks. As neither of you can apparate yet, I also have portkeys for you." He withdrew two white masks and two pendants from his robes. "Wear these at all times. When you are called, they will activate. Press a finger to the pendant while it is active and you will be transported to the meeting location. Severus, if I call them from the school you will ensure their absence is not missed. You will receive forewarning of full meetings for this purpose."

Professor Snape nodded tersely. He'd been watching Harry carefully since he'd killed the girl, what for Harry wasn't sure.

"Narcissa, Harry will be needing a wand without the Trace, and proper wizarding wear. Please take him somewhere tomorrow to obtain them. Abroad would be best."

Narcissa bent her head. "Yes, My Lord."

The Dark Lord then swept out of the room. Snape cast one last glance at Harry, then followed. Narcissa turned to Harry, with no less of an odd look on her face than Snape bore. "It is nearly two a.m., Mr. Potter. Will your family be missing you?"

"No, Ma'am. If they've even noticed I'm gone, they won't care."

Her brow furrowed minutely. "Very well, then. Stay in one of our guest rooms tonight so that you do not have to return tomorrow and arouse suspicion. After breakfast, we will go to a discreet shopping district in wizarding Paris."

"Thank you, Ma'am."

She called a house elf, who led Harry to a suite of rooms in the guest wing of the Manor. A set of pajamas, green and likely from Malfoy's wardrobe, were on the bed for him. He changed quickly, and fell into bed.

Sleep evaded him for some time while he examined his reactions to the night's events. He was pleased to find that the most overwhelming emotion he felt was still relief. Relief at having his free will, the prophecy broken, and his life in significantly less danger than it had been this morning. He felt some guilt, of course, twisting in his stomach. He knew that feeling would grow as Voldemort - his Mark stung slightly when he thought of the Dark Lord so casually - asked him to do more things like he had today. He also felt worried. Worried that Snape would tell the Order of his changed allegiance, or that Ron and Hermione would find out and abandon him. He decided the likelihood of the first worry was fairly low. Snape had to realize which side would be the winning one and would likely devote himself more fully to Vol- the Dark Lord in response. The second worry, he knew would eventually come to pass. Harry had no delusions that his friends would understand or support his decision. It was only a matter of how long he managed to keep the secret. Overall he still felt this choice, while definitely morally wrong, was worth the reward. 


	3. The Shopping Trip

Harry woke up at six thirty, as was his routine with the Dursleys, even though he was far from rested. Exhaustion had always been easier to cope with than the consequences of serving breakfast late.

He decided his hosts would most likely sleep in, and moved slowly to the bathroom. A luxurious tub took up most of the sizable room, and he was eager to try it out. The taps reminded him of the prefects' bathroom at school, and he toyed with them until he found a combination of scents that was pleasant without being girly. When he took off his borrowed pajamas, they disappeared immediately upon hitting the floor. A plain set of folded robes appeared on a small table by the door before he had a chance to react. House elves were both creepy and amazing. Harry focused on the 'amazing' part while he bathed. 

 

Malfoy's robes fit better than Dudley's clothes, and well enough to cover the Dark Mark. Harry was startled to realize he'd taken no notice of the new tattoo since waking. At nine, a house elf appeared to lead him to breakfast, where the two Malfoys in residence where waiting. He took his seat as quickly and quietly as he could, giving a polite smile to his hosts.

Food appeared on the plates, and the three began eating. Harry, who had never really recovered from a childhood of starvation, found he could only manage a few bites of the rich fare. He set his fork down gently, and looked up to see Mrs. Malfoy giving him another odd look. He ducked his head, embarrassed. 

"Is the food to your liking, Mr. Potter?" she asked coolly.

"Yes, ma'am. It's delicious," he replied honestly. 

"Then why do you not eat more?"

His cheeks burned. "I haven't got much of an appetite."

"It's a bit late for regrets, Mr. Potter."

At that, Harry looked up again and met her gaze. "I don't regret my choice, Mrs. Malfoy. I haven't lost my appetite, I just don't have much of one most days. Typically at school I only have toast in the mornings."

A flash of surprise crossed both of their faces when they noted his sincerity. "Mr. Potter. What drove you to this so completely, that you don't so much as hesitate to work for the Dark Lord?"

"I didn't want to be prophecy-bound to a prediction that would almost certainly end in my death. Now I'm not. Did you know you can actually feel the weight of a prophecy on you? I didn't until I felt it lift and break last night, since it had been there my whole life. I know this is probably the wrong choice, that it's selfish, but I'm relieved to have made it."

Mrs. Malfoy nodded, and gave him a sympathetic smile before returning to her breakfast. 

 

In the entrance hall of the Manor, Mrs. Malfoy addressed Harry again. 

"We will go first to Gringott's, to withdraw the Galleons. Do you have your vault key?"

"Er, no ma'am. I didn't expect to be needing it."

"Very well. We will have to travel to your home to retrieve it before we leave. From there, we will use the portkey to wizarding Paris that I keep to go to the shops. Shall we floo?"

"My relatives don't have a fireplace, ma'am. And they are muggles. I don't think the house is on the floo network."

"Then I shall have to apparate the two of you. Please allow me to use legilimency to see the house in your mind, Mr. Potter."

Harry shuddered involuntarily as Mrs. Malfoy met his eyes, but she slipped into his mind much more kindly than Snape's occlumency lessons. The image that came to mind was of the house, with him working in the front garden as the sun beat down. She did not comment on the work she'd seen him do when she pulled out, only cast disillusionment charms over the three of them and offered her elbows to the boys. With a squeezing sensation, they disappeared and reappeared on Privet Drive. 

Harry stepped onto the property and immediately felt a confused discomfort. After a few moments it passed. "There are wards against the Dark Mark. I think I only got in because they aren't meant for me." He looked at Malfoy. "I don't think you'll be able to enter the property." His eyes flicked to Mrs. Malfoy's exposed, and bare, forearms. "I may need - assistance - dealing with my relatives, Mrs. Malfoy. Could you please come inside?"

"I thought you said you wouldn't be missed?"

"That doesn't mean they'll be happy to see me, ma'am."

"Stay put, Draco. We won't be long."

 

Mrs. Malfoy entered the property with no trouble. As soon as the door to the house closed behind them, Harry heard his Uncle shout. 

"BOY.  _Where was my breakfast this morning?_ "

Harry shrank in on himself as the whale of a man thundered around the corner and grabbed him by the shoulders. "I'm sorry, Uncle Vernon."

When his uncle cuffed him across the head and started removing his belt, Mrs. Malfoy stepped in. Her smile was polite on the surface, but the edges were hard enough to cut. "Hello, sir. Your nephew spent last night with me and my son at our manor. My name is Narcissa Malfoy. We are here now to retrieve some of Mr. Potter's things before taking a quick trip to Paris. You understand, of course?"

Because of the disillusionment charm, Vernon hadn't seen her until she spoke. He turned purple with rage. As he was unable to form words for a response, Harry couldn't determine if he was more angry that Harry had had a comfortable night or that he'd nearly been caught at his abuse.

"My things are in the cupboard," Harry said to Mrs. Malfoy. "It's locked, could you help me?"

She looked at Vernon like she wanted to curse him one more time before casting an  _alohomora_ on the cupboard door. Harry opened his trunk and grabbed his vault key. Then, after a moment of thought, grabbed some owl food for Hedwig. He looked earnestly at his escort.

"I need to feed her. She hasn't been able to hunt since we left school, I promise I'll be quick."

She nodded once and he ran up the stairs, leaving the cupboard door open. Mrs. Malfoy glanced inside and noticed a small collection of broken toys arranged lovingly on the shelf, and several child's drawings done in one or two colors stuck on the wall by jamming their edges between the boards. One said, in a shaky hand, "Boy's Room" and her stomach turned. Harry came bounding down the stairs as she closed the cupboard door, and the smile she gave him was slightly more genuine than it had been earlier.

They rejoined Malfoy on the street, who looked highly impatient. "I'll cast a minor glamour over you, Mr. Potter. You're intentionally famous, and questions will be asked if you are seen abroad with us." He nodded his understanding as she waved her wand, then stowed it away and took out an ornate broach. "Touch the portkey, and I will activate it. We will appear outside the Paris branch of Gringott's bank."

 

Withdrawing money from his vault was entirely uneventful, besides the fact that he took out more than he ever had at once before. They went to the wand shop, first.

"Madame Loren is an estranged daughter of the Ollivander family. Her wands are as fine as the ones obtained from Diagon Alley, and for the right price she will sell them unregistered. An unregistered wand cannot be detected by the Ministry of Magic, and as such magic in the presence of muggles or underage magic would have to be witnessed directly to be prosecuted. An unregistered wand also cannot be traced back to its owner, as the magical signature will not be recorded anywhere."

Mrs. Malfoy finished her explanation as they stepped into the shop. It was much larger, brighter, and more open than Ollivander's, and Madame Loren was waiting behind the counter.

"An unregistered wand today, Madame Loren, for our family friend here."

The woman looked at Harry. She seemed to realize he wore a glamour, but didn't recognize him under it. "What is your current wand?"

"Holly and Phoenix feather, ma'am. And a brother wand to another."

She smirked. "One of my brother's?"

Harry didn't get a chance to respond, as she was already at the shelves. First, she pulled several wands of similar composition to his, but each was quickly rejected.  As the pile of rejected wands grew, Madame Loren branched out further and further from his original. Unlike her brother in Diagon Alley, Madame Loren did not seem excited by the challenge Harry presented.

Finally, she pushed a wand into his hands that felt warm under his fingertips. He waved the wand, and even without an incantation his patronus burst forth. 

Madame Loren raised her eyebrows. "That wand certainly likes you. It will not be so easily used, however, until you master it properly. Hornbeam and hippogriff feather, ten and a half inches and inflexible. Are you familiar with the wandlore?"

"No ma'am, I'm sorry."

She waved off his apology. "Hornbeam wands are exceedingly stubborn, and prefer owners who are just as stubborn and find themselves obsessed with one particular thing. Once mastered, a hornbeam wand will almost never change owners, and will adhere itself to your code of ethics. Hippogriff feather wands require you to respect them, much like the beasts themselves. An inflexible wand requires some skill to master but has more power than the average wand." She paused. "Your holly wand is focused on protection and the phoenix feather in it is flexible, but similar wands did not take to you which suggests that its brother was the key to its choosing you. That fact suggests a deep connection with that wand's owner. Does it still work well for you?"

Harry thought about the blasting curse he had used last night, the only magic he'd done since breaking the prophecy. "Yes, ma'am."

"That is unsurprising. Holly and Phoenix is an uncommon combination, but a wand that finds harmony with it bonds closely with its owner and together they are a force to be reckoned with. The wand will be twenty-five galleons. Do you need anything else today?"

Harry was struck speechless by the price of the wand - and discretion - at more than three times the price of his holly wand. Luckily, Mrs. Malfoy spoke for him. "A forearm holster, for the right arm, with protection against summoning and a disillusionment charm. 

Madame Loren nodded. "Thirty galleons in total, then."

Harry paid, and they left the shop. 

"That took an age," Malfoy grumbled. It was the first time the other boy had spoken, and it startled Harry.

"My first wand took just as long to match."

"You do defy expectations, Mr. Potter." Mrs. Malfoy replied evenly. They came to a robe shop, and stepped inside.

"My family friend here will be needing a full basic wardrobe, including clothes that will pass for muggle and several hooded black cloaks," she said to the shop assistant with an air of superiority.

"Of course, Lady Malfoy." She turned to Harry. "Step up onto the stool there, and remove your outer robes so that I can measure you accurately."

Harry glanced over to Mrs. Malfoy, who nodded, and took off the borrowed robe he wore. The shop assistant didn't even glance at his Dark Mark, and Harry realized this must be a common destination for the pureblooded families that served the Dark Lord. She took his measurements quickly, then helped him to choose fabrics and colors. She had to be told the color of his eyes and hair, since she hadn't noticed the glamour, but they outfitted Harry primarily in neutrals and blues. He chose a couple of reds and avoided green on principle - even a Death Eater, he was still a Gryffindor. 

Harry paid over seventy galleons for his clothes, his large withdrawal almost completely spent. 

"Have the packages ready for us to pick up this afternoon. We will take lunch now, and return afterward."

"Yes, Lady Malfoy."

 

When they were seated in a fine restaurant, Mrs. Malfoy erected a privacy ward. Harry ordered only a broth and mineral water, the rich breakfast from that morning still sitting heavily in his stomach. 

"The display your uncle showed this morning was appalling, Mr. Potter. Is that typical of him?"

Harry glanced at Malfoy. His rival looked intrigued, but not comprehending. He hadn't seen Uncle Vernon's outburst, and likely was making assumptions based on him being a muggle. "Fairly, yes. That is why I asked for assistance."

Mrs. Malfoy pursed her lips, in the most expressive moment Harry had seen from her. "You will return to the Manor with us once we have your purchases. I want you to be able to use that wand well before you go back to that house."

Harry nodded cautiously. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Are you sure you won't eat more, Mr. Potter?"

Was she actually concerned about him? "I'm sure, Mrs. Malfoy. I can't eat such rich foods."

She narrowed her eyes, but did not comment on his eating again. They finished at the restaurant, then picked up his new clothes used and Mrs. Malfoy's portkey to return to the Manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wandlore comes from "Wandlore for Beginners" by AJ Cochran on hogwartsishere.com


	4. The Wand

Back at Malfoy Manor, Harry was immediately guided to a training room. The wards protecting the walls and floor were impressive even to Harry's untrained senses, and dummies completely lined one wall.

"The dummies rearrange and repair themselves on command, and have internal anatomy similar to a person's. Rats can be brought to you if you need a living target for anything. Feel free to stay here and practice as long as you need to - a house elf will take you to dinner at six if you haven't left yet. Call an elf if you need anything at all, and when you are ready to return to your relatives' house ask an elf to fetch me and I will apparate you."

Harry was nearly speechless at the depth of her concern for him. "Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy."

She nodded, and left the room. The wards snapped closed around the door, and Harry removed his new wand from its holster. It hummed in his fingers, feeling less content than it had in the wand shop and more like it wanted to test him. Harry realized quickly what Madame Loren had meant when she said this wouldn't be an easy wand to master.

 

 _Lumos_. Nothing.  _Winguardium Leviosa_. Nothing.  _Expecto Patronum_. Nothing. 

 

Harry fought not to get frustrated with the wand. It wouldn't help him master it if he clashed with it. He thought back to what Madame Loren had said. It was a stubborn wand, but adaptable once mastered. That reminded him of himself. It would choose an owner with a single obsession. Harry hadn't thought himself obsessed with finding his own freedom, but becoming a Death Eater was a pretty drastic measure so maybe he was giving himself too much credit. The wand would adhere to his moral code. What was his moral code? Freedom of choice had taken precedence over any morals he had previously held when he'd decided to meet with the Dark Lord. But was it only his own freedom that he valued, or the right to it in general. Well, he certainly wasn't doing anything to help the muggles or muggle-born have the right to choose. The thought of that didn't bother him as much as he thought it would - the feeling of selfishness that overcame him when he realized that was almost worse than the injustices he was prepared to cause. He pushed that away, feeling stupid for his odd priorities. 

What else had Madame Loren said about his wand? It was difficult, but powerful and loyal. Harry had never minded a challenge. This wand fit him well. It requires respect, just like a hippogriff would. Harry thought about riding Buckbeak in his third year, and knew what he needed to do.

 

He bowed his head, the wand in his hand, and focused on the power emanating from it in the same way he'd been awed by Buckbeak. He bowed his head slightly, knowing a full bow to something he held in his hand was unnecessary and uncomfortable. While he bowed his head, he focused internally on the gesture, and he waited. 

Just like Buckbeak, he held his position of deference until the wand returned it. It hummed happily in his hand, and he took a moment to appreciate it. When he felt more harmonized with it, he raised it and cast  _expecto patronum_. This time, his patronus burst forth like it had in the wand shop, looking stronger and more solid than he could remember ever having seen it come from his holly wand. He basked in the power that his new hornbeam wand held for a moment while he watched the stag gallop around the room. 

He went through the ritual of respect and deference again, and the wand responded more quickly this time.  _Lumos_ nearly blinded him before he got the power controlled and dimmed it to a tolerable point.

Repeatedly, he waited until his wand was satisfied with his respect before casting charms and shields he had learned in his first few years of school. Each time, the wand responded to him more quickly and lent him its impressive power. When he was able to cast several spells in a row without having to pause for his ritual, he turned towards the dummies.

 _Bombarda. Confringo. Incendio. Diffindo._ Each spell laid waste to several of the dummies, and Harry paused only to order them to repair themselves as necessary. He kept up the battering of destructive spells until dinner, and was surprised that besides being hungry he felt as energized as when he began.

 

At dinner, he asked Mrs. Malfoy if he could borrow a book or two on curses from the Malfoy library before he left, and she readily agreed. When they finished eating, (lighter fare than breakfast, Harry noted) she called a house elf and gave it two titles to retrieve. The first was a book on minor curses, more like jinxes, that he could use on his relatives to keep them in line without killing or permanently damaging them. The second was much Darker, and held the sort of curses he would need to know before he was sent on the Dark Lord's raids. He thanked her, and returned to the training room. 

 

 _Flagrante_ caused an object to burn to the touch. The tongue-tying curse, with its ridiculous incantation of  _mimble wimble,_ would keep the Dursleys from calling him a freak or reporting his actions. The jelly legs curse, slug vomiting charm, and hair loss curse rounded off his arsenal for returning to the Dursleys.

He opened the second book. The spells in this book turned his stomach to read about, but he couldn't deny they would be useful in battle. His disgust turned to rage when he realized this was the sort of thing Dumbledore had planned to pit him against with only love as armor. He funneled that anger into casting as he taught himself the entrail-expelling curse, the disintegration curse, and the choking curse. The transmogrifian torture sounded tempting, but seemed a bit advanced for now. 

He turned to this book's section on the Unforgivable curses. he knew he wouldn't be able to avoid casting them for long in the Dark Lord's army. "You have to mean it" was all Harry really knew about them despite fake-Moody's lessons on them in his fourth year. According to this book, they weren't fuelled by emotion but by desire. After reading this, Harry wasn't entirely sure where the line was but he knew he hadn't been able to cast the cruciatus curse on Bellatrix because he hadn't focused the anger he felt into a desire. He'd been angry and said the spell on impulse, but hadn't focused on a desire for her to hurt. 

When he finished contemplating, he called an elf asked for several rats to practice on. He started with the familiar one. He called up the rage and pain he had felt when Sirius died, and compacted it into a goal - to make someone else feel worse than this. It took him two tries before the rat was squealing and convulsing under his wand. It lasted only seconds, but Harry felt a sense of triumph at his success. It would get easier. 

Next, he focused on the imperius curse. He thought of how few choices he had been given, and his quickly building desire for not just freedom but  _revenge_. The imperius curse took him four attempts, but when the rat began doing summersaults he released it triumphantly. 

The killing curse, he took a slightly different approach to. He remembered the muggle girl's head exploding, the mess of brain and blood he had ignored while someone else vanished it, the violence of her end. He remembered the clean break Malfoy's victim had made with life. He would kill the rat before he left this room, whether he could cast the killing curse or not. It only made a difference how much pain it would experience. 

The rat was dead on his first casting.

 

Harry smiled to himself, and called a house elf. "Please tell Mrs. Malfoy I am ready to leave, and put these books away properly. 

The elf nodded vigorously before popping away. Harry vanished the rats, and ordered the dummies to repair themselves and organize neatly while he waited for her.

"Mr. Potter," he heard from behind. He turned to the door. 

"Thank you for your help and hospitality today, Mrs. Malfoy."

She smiled softly at him. "It was no trouble. You have fully mastered your new wand?"

Harry nodded. "And several new curses. The books were very useful."

"Good. I admit I am loathe to send you back to your relatives, even armed as such. I am a mother, Mr. Potter, and it is in my nature to protect. Now that you are not at odds with my family, I find myself applying that desire to you." She took out a ring. "This is an emergency portkey to the Manor. It has disillusionment and notice-me-not charms on it so that you may wear it always. It will activate if you say "Sanctimonia vincet semper", the Malfoy family motto, or if you find yourself unconscious in critical condition. If you find yourself unable to prevent your relatives' abuses of you, use it without shame."

"Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy," Harry choked out. They had reached the same place they apparated from this morning. Mrs. Malfoy took Harry by the arm and apparated him again to Privet Drive, where he was able to re-enter the wards without trouble.


	5. The Dursleys

Mrs. Malfoy had offered to come inside with him again, but with his new wand, his new curses, and his emergency portkey, Harry found he didn't need it. 

 

He let the door slam behind him as he entered, feeling bold. Vernon stomped into the room, rage clear on his face, and looked around carefully. After he was able to find no evidence of a blonde aristocrat in the room, he bore down on Harry with a quietly threatening voice. 

"Boy. Where have you been. All of your chores-" Vernon froze for a moment when Harry drew his new wand. "You can't do magic outside of school," he said and started advancing toward Harry.

"Can't I?  _Locomotor wibbly_." The jelly leg curse struck Vernon and he collapsed to the ground, unable to advance on Harry. 

"You'll be expelled. Put on trial, even!"

" _Mimble wimble_."

"What did you just do, you little-" Instead of finishing his sentence, Vernon found himself choking on his tongue while Harry watched dispationately. 

"I tied your tongue. As long as you try to insult or threaten me, you'll choke on it. It's up to you how long you try for. It would be entirely your fault if you fainted from lack of oxygen."

Harry then re-holstered his wand, and climbed the stairs to his bedroom. "The jelly legs will wear off within an hour." A pause, and then Harry spoke with false surprise. "And look- no owl from the Ministry about using magic outside of school. I guess I _can_ do it."

Once in his room, Harry magically locked the door and cast  _flagrante_ on the knob, in case any of his relatives tried to come in. Then, he unlocked Hedwig's cage and let her out to hunt before collapsing back on his bed. 

He cast a softening charm on the mattress and a warming charm on the sheets, relishing in being able to do magic so casually.

The power he'd spent over the day seemed to energize him, rather than wear him down. Each spell, especially the curses, sang through his veins. After a full day of intensive study, he felt high with it. When he thought about it, he realized that his attitude towards Vernon, while satisfying, was unlike him. He attributed it to the wonderful feelings that casting those curses left him with.

 

In the morning Harry greeted Hedwig cheerfully before she settled into her cage to sleep, put on a set of his new clothes, and strapped his wand holster to his arm. He cast several cleaning charms on himself, then put the hornbeam wand in the holster and calmly went downstairs.

Vernon began choking on his tongue almost immediately upon seeing Harry, and continued for several seconds before seeming to remember the tongue-tying curse and stopping. Before Petunia or Dudley could react, he cast the curse on each of them.

"There. Now that we won't be saying anything nasty about me, let's clear some things up." He sat down in a chair at the table. "Clearly, I've got the means now to do magic over the summers. I'm also not afraid to hurt you, since you won't be able to say anything negative about me to report it. So I won't be doing chores anymore, unless I want to. My bedroom is off limits unless I invite you in, and I'll have my things there with me. Finally, if you lay a hand on me I will make you suffer. I'm sick of it. Clear?"

All three of Harry's relatives nodded vigorously, seemingly unable to speak without triggering the curse. 

"And just so that you know I'm serious, you should know that I killed someone the other night. And she hadn't done anything to me. Think about what reasons you've given me to do worse, and tread carefully."

Harry then stood up, fixed himself a bowl of cereal, and sat on Petunia's counter to eat it. He finished quickly and cleaned the dishes with a charm. 

He left the house at a stroll. Things were going remarkably well since he'd taken the Dark Mark.


	6. The First Raid

A week after being Marked, Harry was called for his first raid. When the Mark burned, he was in the middle of dinner. Immediately, he stood up and retrieved his cloak and mask. As soon as they were donned, Harry touched the portkey that hung around his neck and was pulled to Malfoy Manor. He was second to last to arrive of a group of ten Death Eaters, all masked. Bellatrix was there - the mask was useless when she cackled like that - and Harry correctly assumed the rest were relatively low rank.

They were being sent on a raid of a mixed Muggle-Magical village, a threat to the Statute of Secrecy and home to many of the Dark Lord's lesser enemies, and to kill and capture as many people as possible before Aurors or the Order arrived on the scene. Before they were sent out, Bellatrix was told she would need to side-along apparate Harry each way. Each Death Eater also received a vial of potion, which they all drank immediately. Harry followed their lead without so much as asking what the potion was.

 

As soon as he swallowed it, his heart began to pound in his chest and he heard blood rushing in his ears. Before he could regain his equilibrium, Bellatrix grabbed him by his arm and they were in the village. Spells were firing, and Harry drew his wand and joined the fray without a thought. He cast  _incendio_ , lighting a home on fire. The inhabitants were forced out into the street, where another Death Eater hit them each with a different brutal curse. All three were dead before they hit the ground. Harry's mind was running faster than it ever had, and all he could think about was the curses he cast and the ones flying around him. As they flew, his became gradually more gruesome. He hit a wizard with the entrail-expelling curse, and laughed as the man convulsed in the puddle of his organs and died. When Aurors began arriving on the scene, Bellatrix immediately grabbed his arm and apparated them away without warning.

 

The curse Harry had been casting fizzled against a wall in Malfoy Manor, and he looked around wildly at the sudden calm as the rest of the raiding party arrived, several with hostages in tow. Each person was keyed up from the rush of the potion and the fight, and the prisoners were being tortured mercilessly by grinning Death Eaters. People were pushing and shoving as they bumped into each other. Everything was chaos. 

 

The room settled immediately when the Dark Lord walked in, though Harry had to fight against the adrenaline, the need to move, when he dropped to his knees. The Dark Lord was pleased. The entire neighborhood they'd attacked had been burned to the ground, most of its inhabitants gone in one fashion or another, and there had been no Death Eater casualties or arrests. Another Death Eater came in to bind and lock up the captives for when they could be of use. As they were being levitated out, Harry thought he recognized one of them. Maybe an Order member who had come to the Ministry, or a professor for a class he didn't take?

There was to be a celebration, as several other raids had also gone just as well tonight. The Dark Lord said with a smirk that the Order seemed less on their trail suddenly, and Harry wondered what happened to Snape.


	7. The Celebration

About forty-five unmasked Death Eaters were in one of the rooms of Malfoy Manor, which was bare of furniture other than a bar in the corner. Harry found himself distinctly uncomfortable, but unable to leave, and hovered near the edge of the room. At first, the Death Eaters who hadn't been on his raid and seen him in action looked at him suspiciously. Harry supposed that they were skeptical about his devotion to their cause, which he couldn't blame them for. As they threw themselves into celebrating, and bottles of firewhiskey, they seemed to notice him less and less.

Harry shifted from foot to foot, picking at the skin of his hands and tried to calm his heart rate and breathing. It seemed like the harder he tried to calm down, the more keyed up he felt. Worries about the people he had helped to kill and kidnap threatened at the edge of his mind. A voice behind him caused Harry to startle so violently that he didn't comprehend what was said. Harry turned to face the man who'd spoken, and asked as steadily as possible, "What was that?"

The man chuckled. "I said, it's the potion. The feeling like you can't relax, that's what the potion they give you before going out does."

"Why does everyone take it?"

"In a raid, it heightens your awareness of everything around you, and makes you more reactive. More vicious too, for most people. Once you're not fighting anymore, though, it just makes you extremely anxious. The dose they give us is about twenty-four hours worth, in case things go pear shaped while we're out."

"Then why am I the only one who looks ready to jump off a cliff?" Harry snapped at the man. 

He didn't seem offended by Harry's reaction, only amused. "The rest of us have taken something else to take the edge off." He raised his glass slightly. "Firewhiskey."

"Oh."

"It's why we have these little 'celebrations' at all. Make us all functioning members of society again." He held out the glass in his hand to Harry. "Here, you look like you need this." Harry took the alcohol, but hesitated to drink it. He looked warily at the drink, and at the man who gave it to him. "Bottoms up, Potter. The anxiety will clear up in a drink or two. I wouldn't poison you or anything. I'm not sure how, but after seeing you on that raid it's pretty clear you're one of us."

Harry steadied himself, then took a gulp of the whiskey. It burned and made him cough, but also made him feel warm inside and before Harry knew it his muscles had started to loosen. He steeled himself for the burn, and finished the drink. 

The man had been chuckling since Harry had choked on the first drink. "I should've guessed you hadn't had this stuff before, Potter. Name's Amos Jorkins, by the way."

Harry nodded awkwardly, unsure of what to say. Introducing himself was obviously unnecessary and he wasn't sure if he could really say it was nice to meet Jorkins. After a moment, he settled on a mumbled "hello". Jorkins hung around another few moments before excusing himself back to the adults.

 

Slightly more relaxed, Harry looked around the gathering again. He noticed Malfoy on the other side of the room, holding half a glass of whiskey and looking as uncomfortable as Harry felt. Harry decided to approach him, picking up a new drink on his way. At least they were the same age, and if they fought it would be comfortingly familiar in this bizarre situation.

"'lo Malfoy."

Malfoy appeared to wrestle with himself for a moment before returning a perfunctory, "Hello, Potter."

Awkward silence followed. Harry took a sip of his drink, and grimaced. What would they even talk about right now? Harry had no desire to rehash the raids they'd been on - it was a price to pay for his free will, not something he would ever enjoy. Talking about school would probably be weird. Malfoy was, surprisingly, the one to speak first. "How's the new wand?"

Harry grinned. "It's excellent, really. Took some time to bond with, even after I spent all that time in one of your training rooms. I had to spend some time meditating with it each morning for a few days, but we've reached an understanding now." Malfoy only nodded politely. "First thing I did when I got back to that house was curse my relatives into submission."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at that, and Harry sheepishly took another swig of his drink. Unaware that the alcohol was loosening his tongue, Harry continued. "Nothing too major, just to make them bearable to live with. A few tongue-tying curses to keep them quiet, jelly-legs and body-binds to keep them contained around me, a burning curse on my doorknob for privacy. Beyond that it's been hexes, really. Stinging hexes with my new wand have enough power to make a decent welt."

"I never took you for the cursing defenseless muggles type, Potter."

"Well these muggles are the beating defenseless children type, so I feel justified."

Malfoy looked alarmed, and Harry realized what he'd just revealed. He grimaced and took a drink, but didn't qualify the statement at all. "You mean- you?"

Harry nodded. "Revenge is sweet. I kind of hope to kill them, honestly."

"I'm starting to see you as Death Eater material," Malfoy said just as Jorkins walked by them. 

"He was a machine out there tonight. The Light give you any special combat training or something?"

Harry snorted bitterly. "No, nothing like that. You think Dumbledore taught me Dark magic? It's all learned from books and experience. I've spent a lot of time dueling, too."

Jorkins nodded appreciatively and walked away, and Malfoy asked Harry a question about the Potions essay Snape had set. There was less caution in Malfoy's voice now, if there wasn't any real interest. As they discussed the tenuous connections between the strengthening solution and the invigorating draught, Harry wondered if working for the Dark Lord would have gained him a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: drinking to alleviate anxiety is a bad plan. This is the beginning of those unhealthy coping mechanisms I tagged for.


	8. The Next Day

Harry woke up the next day in his bed at Privet Drive, with a pounding headache and no idea how he'd gotten back from Malfoy Manor the night before. He wasn't sure which would be worse - one of the older Death Eaters or Malfoys having apparated him, or him having taken the Knight Bus while blackout drunk. A glance at the Death Eater mask beside him answered that, and he desperately hoped he had been apparated. 

He forced himself to sit up, and picked up the mask. A note and a vial of potion were attached.  _You'll be needing this in the morning, kid. Jorkins_. Harry took the potion without questioning it. His headache eased, the brain fog cleared, and he was instantly cheered. Only then did he look at the label on the vial.  _Hangover Cure + Elixir to Induce Euphoria_. Harry decided to learn how to make those ASAP. He didn't feel like he could rely on the good will of Death Eaters for long, even if he was one, and he didn't even want to think about what this morning would be like without them. Apparation would be another useful skill. Illegal at fifteen, but it wasn't as if Harry was learning it for legal purposes. He wondered if you could learn it from a book, and decided to owl order anything Flourish and Blotts had on the subject. 

 

Harry looked at the clock before leaving the room, and was shocked to see that he'd slept past ten. Even with the Dursleys unable to force him to cook breakfast, Harry hadn't learned how to sleep in. Maybe alcohol helped more than residual potions effects. And with a potion in the morning to feel better what was the harm? He brought his bowl of porridge into the living room and turned on the TV. He had no idea what to watch, but it was a luxury he planned on taking advantage of for as long as he was stuck here. While he watched, Hedwig arrived with the day's post. 

Harry snorted bitterly at the Daily Prophet's headline: Harry Potter: The Chosen One? _Not anymore_ , he thought, _and isn't the bloody prophecy a secret?_ The second thing Hedwig dropped was a letter. 

_Dear Harry,_

_I_ _f it is convenient to you, I shall call at number four, Privet Drive tonight to escort you to the Burrow, where you have been invited to spend the remainder of your school holidays. If you are agreeable, I should also be glad of your assistance in a matter to which I hope to attend on the way to the Burrow. I shall explain this more fully when I see you. Kindly send your answer by return of this owl._

_I am yours most sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

Harry sent back his agreement, ecstatic that he would be leaving this house so soon and seeing Ron - maybe even Hermione. He glanced down at his arm, the Dark Mark exposed, and grimaced at it for the first time. He would have to take care that neither of them saw. Long sleeves in the Burrow in summer would probably raise questions, but he didn't think he had time to learn a sturdy enough glamour spell to cover it by the time Dumbledore arrived. Harry went upstairs to pack his things, mask at the very bottom of his trunk, and decided not to tell the Dursleys about their impending visitor. Let them be surprised.

 

The knock at the door came precisely at midnight, causing Vernon to shout horribly about the rudeness of calling unannounced at such abnormal hours. The conversation Dumbledore had with the Dursley's - blithely ignoring their rudeness, taking hospitality that was not offered, cheerily reminding Petunia about the Howler he had once sent her by calling it correspondence, and flaunting his magic at every opportunity - would have been amusing if Harry were not still furious with the man over the prophecy. Harry noted silently that the Headmaster's wand arm was looking slightly dead, all shriveled and blackened.  While Harry pondered that, Dumbledore gave out glasses of mead after bemoaning the lack of refreshments. Harry sipped it, and found it was more pleasant and much gentler than last night's firewhiskey.

Harry remained quiet when Dumbledore told him he had inherited Grimmauld Place from Sirius. It pained him to realize he hadn't even thought about Sirius' death since it happened, and he had spent yesterday with his killer. What would the Dark Lord say if Harry owned the house which was used for Order Headquarters? 

"We have vacated temporarily, in case the inheritance causes an issue. In order to test this, you can simply call the elf bound to the house."

"Kreacher?" Harry asked. He wasn't entirely calling the miserable thing, more clarifying, but the elf did apparate into the Dursley's sitting room wailing about how he wanted to serve Bellatrix. 

"Give him an order, Harry," Dumbledore said over the screams, "and if he and the house are yours he will have to obey."

"Won't! Won't! WON'T WON'T WON'T!"

"Kreacher, shut up!" Instantly, the elf fell silent and started pounding on the floorboards. "Go home, Kreacher, and stay there." The elf disappeared again.

"Well, it seems as if your inheritance has come through. Number Twelve Grimmauld Place is yours, Harry, as is Kreacher. If you have no use of him, you may choose to send him to the Hogwarts kitchens. Of course, that is up to you."

"Is the house still under Fidelius?"

"I shall go run the tests tomorrow now that we know it should be safe from Death Eaters. If it is, I shall still be Secret Keeper." Harry privately thought that it might not be safe, depending on the limitations of the charm in relation to a house's owner, but nodded. "And now, I believe we have imposed on your aunt and uncle's hospitality longer than I daresay they can handle. Let us take your trunk, and attend to that errand I mentioned." Harry nodded again and bounded upstairs. 

 

On the street, Dumbledore told Harry to take out his invisibility cloak as a safeguard, and the trunk would be sent on to the Burrow while they attended to his mysterious errand. Harry did so, careful not to uncover the white mask hidden at the bottom. He felt as if it would leap out at the Headmaster, but of course it didn't. They then apparated, Harry holding onto Dumbledore's uninjured arm, and reappeared in another neighborhood.

The Headmaster explained, once prompted, that they were there to persuade an old colleague out of retirement in order to fill the empty position of the year at Hogwarts. Once they entered the house, Harry couldn't see why Dumbledore would want the man who clearly did not want the job. He had staged an attack and transfigured himself into an armchair, then adamantly refused to come out of retirement before Dumbledore could even ask, only changing his mind when he saw the opportunity to live comfortably and collect the Chosen One. Harry had had to fight to keep his lip from curling in disgust when he had referred to Sirius and his brother as a 'set', and was never more glad to have stopped being the kind of person Slughorn would want to associate with - even if it was a secret. 

 

Having secured Slughorn for Hogwarts' staff, the duo apparated to the Burrow. Dumbledore privately consoled Harry on his loss of Sirius, and Harry's heart twisted guiltily again at how he'd distracted himself, then told him they would be having private lessons together during the school year and implored him to keep himself safe for both his and the Weasley's sake while he stayed at the Burrow. Harry gave his empty promises, and was swept inside. Mrs. Weasley fed him and then cheerily sent him to bed in the twins' room, all while Harry tried not to look guilty.


	9. The Burrow

Harry was woken up the next morning by Ron, and was eternally grateful that Mrs. Malfoy had the foresight to choose mostly long sleeves for his new wardrobe. 

"Hey, mate! Mum said I should let you sleep since you got in so late last night, but you're always such an early riser I figured there was half a chance you were already up."

"Hi, Ron," Harry grumbled. "I wasn't, but I guess I am now."

Ron didn't even manage to look sheepish through his excitement. "Mum's got breakfast, hurry downstairs!"

Thankfully, Ron left the room then and Harry was able to change privately. He chose the most muggle looking trousers and long sleeve shirt he could find, which was still a button down and much nicer than anything the Weasleys had ever seen him wear.

On his way down to the kitchen, Harry ran into Hermione. She smiled brightly and hugged him. In her zeal, she hiked up his sleeves just a bit and Harry had to subtly pull them back down to keep the edge of the Mark from showing. When she pulled back, he gave her a smile that didn't reach his eyes. She wordlessly pulled him into another hug, presumably to comfort him, and he felt a stab of guilt before reminding himself that he'd bought her safety from the Dark Lord. She'd never forgive him when she found out, but at least she'd be alive to hold the grudge. 

 

It was hot in the kitchen. Ron and Ginny wore T-shirts and shorts, and Mrs. Weasley and Hermione both wore sleeveless dresses. Mr. Weasley was dressed for work, but had his sleeves rolled up above his elbows. Harry pushed away the desire to do the same as he filled his plate, but was quickly sweating. Mrs. Weasley noticed right away.

"Are you alright, dear? It's quite warm out today, perhaps you should change."

Harry took his time chewing and swallowing so he could think. "I haven't got any T-shirts. Dudley's old ones finally fell apart this year and Aunt Petunia somehow realized his hand-me-downs wouldn't work anymore, but all she bought me were clothes like this."

"Well, I never. I'm sure Ronald could lend you something."

"Oh, no, that's not-"

"I haven't actually got anything clean," Ron cut in. Harry silently thanked his friend's slobbish habits as Mrs. Weasley scolded him. 

"Well, you wouldn't be able to wear Ronald's things all summer anyway. Maybe we should go to the shops today so you can buy yourself something for summer."

"It's really not necessary, Mrs. Weasley. I don't want to spend the money when I've got perfectly good clothes to wear. I wasn't even overwarm until I came into the kitchen. I'm always cold, you know."

That got Mrs. Weasley ranting about how thin he was and loading his plate with more than he could imagine eating, but it also got her to stop thinking about his sleeves. When she finished, Harry gave half the food to Ron behind her back. 

OWL results came in while they ate. Harry had gotten mostly Es, with an O in DADA, an A in astronomy, and failing grades in history and divination. He grimaced when he remembered falling asleep during the exam and dreaming of Sirius' captivity. It was just as well, though. It's not as if Harry had planned to do a NEWT in the subject. He didn't qualify for Snape's Potions NEWT, but he doubted he'd be looking at an Auror career with the Dark Mark on his arm anyway, so overall he was pleased. 

 

After breakfast Harry owl ordered a book on magical forms of travel. He hoped it would tell him enough about apparation that he could teach himself. He found the hangover cure and elixir for inducing euphoria in books Mrs. Weasley had on the shelf and copied out the recipes. He had the hangover cure ingredients left over from last year's potion kit, but not the elixir. He supposed that would have to do until the Weasleys decided to go to Diagon Alley. The extra security setup may be entirely unnecessary, but they didn't know that and were going through a lot of inconvenience to keep him safe. 

 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione spent the day helping out around the Burrow - de-gnoming the garden, peeling potatoes for dinner - and working on summer assignments at Hermione's insistence. Harry cast cooling charms on himself in the bathroom each time he started to sweat so that no one would comment again on his clothes.

 

When the book arrived, Harry decided the risk of splinching was too high for him to try to learn apparation now. A single-use portkey, however, he could make fairly easily. The attic of the Burrow had a ghoul keeping it loud and deserted and making that the perfect place to reappear without getting caught. 

 

A few days after Harry's arrival, several order members were coming to dinner. Harry was looking forward to seeing Remus, since he'd always felt close to the man. When Moody walked in, however, Harry had a chilling realization. The magic eye could see through his sleeves, and see his Dark Mark. He hoped the former Auror didn't make a habit of looking through clothing, but wouldn't put it past the paranoid old man to check forearms regularly. He feigned illness, helped along by the pale skin and cold sweat this realization had brought about, and excused himself to the twins' room.

When Remus arrived, he was told of Harry's illness and went up to see his honorary godson. Harry was lying in bed with the blankets up to his chin, arms wrapped around his stomach beneath them. 

"How are you feeling, kiddo?"

Harry smiled weakly, which wasn't difficult given the guilt he was being forcefully reminded of tonight. "Not great. I wish I could be down there with you."  _But not with Moody,_ he added silently.

"Do you need anything? Potions? A healer?"

"No! No, I'm sure it's just the sudden switch to Mrs. Weasley's heavier cooking. it's only my stomach."

As Remus was about to reply, Harry felt a burning sensation that couldn't have come with worse timing. It caught him by surprise and he hissed in pain, clutching his arm tighter around his waist. 

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" he asked worriedly, and Harry's heart sank.

"Yeah. Just cramping, all I need is some rest. Maybe the bathroom. Go downstairs and enjoy dinner, I'm going to try to sleep."

Remus smoothed Harry's hair down. "Okay. Call if you need anything."

Harry fought a smile through the worsening pain and nodded, then turned on his side away from Remus to encourage the man to leave. When he heard the door click behind him, he quickly went to his trunk. A wad of clothing under the blankets with an animation charm to imitate his breathing would fool anyone but Moody, and if he came in Harry was out of luck no matter what. Harry donned his cloak and mask, grabbed an extra sock to portkey back, and finally responded to the Dark Lord's call.


	10. The Summons

Harry appeared in the study at Malfoy Manor. Malfoy and the Dark Lord were already there, and the latter looked unamused by Harry's delayed arrival. 

Before the man could crucio him, Harry dropped to his knees and bowed his head. "Apologies, my Lord. I was not alone when you called. Half of the Order was present."

The Dark Lord raised an eyebrow. "You will be forgiven your tardiness once you tell me about the developments within the Order you are aware of. First, however, the reason I've summoned you both. Rise."

"Yes, my Lord." Harry said as he quickly got to his feet.

"I have two assignments within Hogwarts for you. I am giving them to you now that you may prepare anything you need before term begins."

"Yes, my Lord," both teens said. 

"Your first task is to devise a way through the wards and into the castle for a raiding party of Death Eaters. Your second is to kill Albus Dumbledore." Both Harry and Malfoy's eyes widened at the second assignment. Dumbledore was a powerful wizard, and had the castle's wards at his command. This would not be an easy task. "With the Headmaster dead and Death Eaters occupying the castle, our army will gain control over Hogwarts and be one step closer to dominating the Wizarding World. Are your instructions clear?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Draco, you are dismissed. Harry, stay."

"Yes, my Lord."

When the door closed behind Malfoy, the Dark Lord spoke again. "Inform me of the developments with the Order and Dumbledore. If you fail to provide me new information, you will be punished for your tardiness today."

"Yes, my Lord." Harry hurried to respond. "The morning after the raid I recieved a letter from Dumbledore saying he would pick me up and take me to the Weasley's that night, and he did. When he arrived, we determined that I have inherited- Order headquarters. I can't say the name, as the Fidelius charm with Dumbledore as secret keeper is still intact. With it, I inherited the house elf bound to the property. After stopping to recruit a professor out of retirement he brought me to the Weasley's house, which has been warded with the strongest protection the Ministry can provide, as they still believe me their savior. Dumbledore also said he would be giving me private lessons this year, presumably related to the broken prophecy, but refused to give any details. Today, about half the Order came to dinner at the Weasley's, including Mad Eye Moody. When I realized he would be able to see the Dark Mark through my sleeve, I feigned illness to get away. When your call came, my Lord, Remus Lupin was checking up on my health."

"Who was the professor you recruited?"

"Slughorn, my Lord."

A flash of something passed through the Dark Lord's eyes. "My old Potions professor. It seems dear Severus may have finally gotten his preferred position." Harry bit back a groan. The Dark Lord noticed, but appeared amused by Harry's dismay. "The house elf is still at Order Headquarters?"

"Yes, my Lord. Shall I give him any orders?"

"Call him now, and direct him to report to me on Order proceedings."

"Yes, my Lord. Kreacher!"

The house elf popped in, and immediately re-started his chorus of "No, no, no, won't, won't won't."

"Kreacher, stand there quietly. My Lord, you can see he is unhappy about serving me, but is bound to regardless. Kreacher, you are to report to the Dark Lord on the coming and going of Order members at the house, as well as content of discussions that is relevant to the war." Harry paused. "You are not to tell anyone or hint to anyone about this order, or about my association with the Dark Lord, or about anything related to these things. You are not to seek out loopholes in this order. Clear?" Kreacher nodded, glaring at Harry while he did. "Back to the house, now, and stay there unless you have a report." Kreacher disappeared again  and Harry turned to his own master. "Satisfactory, my Lord?"

"Indeed," the man replied with a cold smile. "Have you anything else to report?"

"Not at this time, my Lord. Should I send word when I know the content of Dumbledore's private lessons for me?"

"If it is pertinent, yes. Send word through Severus if you have a message for me."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Dismissed."

"Yes, my Lord."

 

Harry created a portkey back to the Burrow. He'd have liked to go to the attic, but worried that he'd be seen sneaking back to the bedroom from there. He set it to arrive standing by the bed, and appeared there just as Remus opened the door to check on him. 

The werewolf's eyes widened dramatically when he saw a masked Death Eater apparently apparate into Harry's room. Before he could raise the alarm, Harry raised his wand.

" _Obliviate._ "


	11. The Rest of Summer

Hermione left after a week to go on holiday with her family, hugging Harry goodbye and promising to write if she could. As happy as Harry had been to see her, and as much as he would miss her, dealing with his summons from the Dark Lord would be easier with one less highly observant person in the Burrow. 

Harry was summoned at least once a week for a late-night raid. It seemed the Dark Lord was pleased with his performance, and wasn't so concerned about using him in combat as he'd originally thought. Each time, he'd be summoned around midnight, take the sensory-heightening potion, complete the raid, then return to Malfoy Manor and get blackout drunk. In the morning, he'd wake up and take the potion cocktail that Jorkins was still graciously giving him. If he was ever caught traveling from the attic to his room wasted at four in the morning, he didn't remember it and no one said anything.

 

Every other week he'd spend a couple of hours on a non-raid night with Malfoy, planning for their assignments and drinking. Harry found himself in need of a hangover cure the day after those nights as well, but he still didn't have the ingredients to brew the Euphoria elixir. Without that component of the cocktail, he found himself increasingly stressed and depressed about the things they were planning.

Harry had first suggested the secret passages, but the idea was rejected in case someone in Hogsmeade was able to warn the professors. Harry wasn't sure how Malfoy found out there was a broken vanishing cabinet in the Room of Requirement - specifically in a version of it called the Room of Hidden Things - but it was the best plan they had. Mrs. Malfoy purchased its pair from Borgin and Burkes and set it up in the Manor. The two teens studied it and made notes on what a functioning one was like in order to repair the other. 

Killing Dumbledore would be harder. Neither of them thought they'd be able to take out their Headmaster with a killing curse, despite that they had both used it on people before now and neither particularly liked the man. The fact was that he was a formidable dueler aside, the Hogwarts Headmaster had control of the wards and portraits, which would give Dumbledore an advantage in any direct combat situation within the castle.

 

It was a constant effort to act normally with Ron, to not withdraw, to not snap, to not get caught. Letters to Hermione were easier. She couldn't see how long it sometimes took him to come up with pleasant things to say, or hear the unfortunate tones his voice wanted to take on. Before long, Harry found himself craving raid nights. Not for the raid itself, but for the cycle of adrenaline, blackout, and artificial euphoria that accompanied them. Between those days, Harry found himself searching desperately for something to take the edge off the stress he was feeling.

 

When they went to Diagon Alley for school supplies, Harry took advantage of the chaos at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes to slip away from the group to the apothecary, where he stocked up on the ingredients to his two favorite potions. While he was there, he happened on something completely accidentally that might help him in the in-between days. A wizard outside the apothecary waved around a cigarette. The smoke made Harry cough, but he knew from Dudley's gang that some people liked to have a cigarette when they needed to relax. He was too famous to buy them in a wizarding area - since everyone knew what he looked like and how old he was news of something scandalous would spread in a heartbeat - but he casually walked to the Leaky and out into muggle London where he could be anonymous. At the first corner store he found, he confunded the cashier into believing that he'd already checked Harry's ID and taken his money for a full carton. Who knew when he would manage to be back, after all. He shoved the carton into the shopping bag from the apothecary, and rushed back to Diagon Alley to find the Weasleys. Mrs. Weasley was frantic when he caught up to her, and he felt a little guilty for losing them, but it had been necessary. 

 

That night, Harry tried the cigarettes for the first time. He lit it carefully with his wand and took a drag. Immediately, he choked. When he finally stopped coughing, the burning in his throat had brought tears to his eyes. He took his second drag more slowly, with an expectation for what it would feel like. While he still coughed a bit, it wasn't the same all consuming fit he'd had before. When he finished the cigarette, his head felt thick. Each movement seemed to continue in his vision just a little longer than it should. He couldn't entirely decide if he liked the feeling, but he was resolved to try it at least a couple more times and figure it out.

 

When Harry packed his trunk for the Express he first packed his Death Eater garb, then his cigarettes and hangover potions, followed by the very specific set of potions ingredients he'd purchased, and finally followed by his books and clothes - the legal things, he thought with a snort. The trunk barely closed, which wasn't an issue Harry had ever had with the meager possessions the Dursleys had allowed him.

They took Ministry cars to the train station, and met with unfamiliar Aurors there. Harry was glad Moody was retired - he hadn't seen the paranoiac since that first weekend, and really didn't know what he'd do if he was forced to spend time with him in King's Cross. They arrived on Platform 9 3/4 only a few minutes before the train was due to leave. Harry was left to find a compartment without Ron and Hermione while they did prefect duties, but it was just as well. 


	12. The Train

Harry sat with Neville and Luna. Harry was concerned about the staring, wondering what people might be thinking about him and paranoid that they somehow knew the truth, until he remembered that the Department of Mysteries fiasco had been all over the papers. Neville and Luna had both gone along and been featured in the story, so they would attract almost as much attention as him. Neville and Luna were both disappointed that Harry was discontinuing Dumbledore's Army, but there was no way the Dark Lord would accept him continuing to teach a group of Light-oriented students defensive magic. Luna's painfully honest comment about it being "like having friends" made Harry suggest they study together in the library sometimes. He could help her with her classwork, he just couldn't justify going above and beyond. 

When Harry's duel with the Dark Lord the previous spring came up, he found himself lost in thought. Neville could just as easily have been the subject of that stupid prophecy - it had only been because the Dark Lord found his family first that he was the one who was marked. And now he was Marked, too. Harry didn't think that Neville would have cracked under the pressure of the prophecy the way he did, and almost wished the Dark Lord had made different moves fifteen years ago. But he found himself unable to wish the childhood he'd had, the crushing lack of free will and repeated brushes with death, on his shy friend. And he refused to let himself regret what he'd chosen. There was no sense in lingering on things he couldn't change.

“You all right, Harry? You look funny,” said Neville.

Harry started. “Sorry… I…”

“Wrackspurt got you?” asked Luna sympathetically, peering at Harry through her enormous colored spectacles.

“I… what?” “A Wrackspurt… They’re invisible. They float in through your ears and make your brain go fuzzy - lost in thought -” she said, “guilty, even. I thought I felt one zooming around in here.” She flapped her hands at thin air, as though beating off large invisible moths. 

Harry wondered, not for the first time, if Luna was more intelligent and perceptive than anyone gave her credit for. Wrackspurts sounded made up, but so did most of the new things he encountered in this world, and that was  _exactly_ how he'd been feeling. Unwilling to let her ask any more questions, he started a conversation with Neville about Quidditch. 

 

Ron and Hermione joined the group just before lunch, but Harry and Neville were immediately invited away by a younger girl bearing notes from Slughorn. Harry grimaced, but left for Compartment C all the same. Slughorn proceeded to make everyone uncomfortable by grilling them on their well-known relatives and personal skills, then adjusting his behavior towards them in accordance with their answers. After he brought up the Department of Mysteries and Harry's proclaimed status as the Chosen One, Harry found an excuse to leave. 

Malfoy was alone in a compartment, as Ron had gleefully said he would be. Harry didn't bother to knock, watching Malfoy with contempt and not relaxing it until the door was closed and sealed behind him. "Malfoy."

"Potter."

"We didn't meet this week. Is everything in place?"

Malfoy nodded. "The broken cabinet should be in the Room of Hidden things. I've got books on their construction and maintenance in my trunk."

"My Map and invisibility cloak will keep us from being caught at it. I still think we need a better plan for- our second assignment." Harry had been about to say the words 'kill Dumbledore' on the Hogwarts Express, without a silencing charm no less, and he was horrified at his own lack of discretion. 

"Well you've yet to come up with a plan, for all that you hate mine."

"I've told you, I'll find out what it is he plans to teach me privately this year and see if I can work something out from that. I think it's a decent start."

"Yeah, whatever Potter. Get out of here before someone comes around, I'll see you after curfew."

"Er- want me to meet you at the dungeons? I've got my map and cloak, and it's a long way to the seventh floor."

Malfoy waved him off. "I'm a prefect, I'll just claim duty to anyone who sees me. Now go."

 

Harry left and barely had time to change into school robes - maneuvering things very carefully in his barely opened trunk - before they arrived at Hogwarts and left the train. Ron, Hermione, and Neville froze momentarily at first sight of the thestrals pulling the carriages, and Harry was forcibly reminded once again of the reason they could now see them. Sirius was dead. The skeletal creatures grew agitated when Harry approached. 

"That's odd," Luna said. "I've never seen them anything but friendly or curious. They're very gentle creatures, you know."

How many murders had Harry committed this summer? In nine weeks, it had to have been about fifteen. Could these creatures of death sense the blood on his hands? Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed another pair of thestrals inching away from Malfoy and swallowed. Before the creatures could decide to bolt, Harry boarded the carriage to the castle.


	13. The Start of Term

The Sorting and the Welcome Feast were both uneventful. A few Gryffindors asked Harry about Quidditch trials, which he assured them would be soon. His captain's badge gleamed on his chest, but he honestly hadn't even thought about Quidditch much this summer. He'd been busy, after all. 

The Headmaster's speech after the feast was the same set of welcomes and warnings he gave each year. Confusion when through the Great Hall when he announced Slughorn as the Potions professor, but Harry remembered the Dark Lord mentioning that as his previous position and so was only mildly surprised. Hermione looked at him suspiciously for it, but he staunchly ignored her silent query. Similarly, he only wilted slightly at the announcement that Snape would be taking on Defense. 

 

Once the others were in bed and asleep, Harry quietly got back up and dug in his trunk. After a moment he withdrew his invisibility cloak, the Marauder's Map, and a pack of cigarettes. He strapped his hornbeam wand to his arm, sighing at the familiarity of it. After carrying this wand constantly over the summer, his old holly wand appealed to him much less. He slipped out of the common room, and was at the Room of Requirement before he knew it.

Malfoy was already inside, one of the books he'd brought laying open next to the broken cabinet. Harry dropped the cloak by the door, and greeted his partner in crime. 

"About time you got here, Potter."

"I, unlike you, had to wait for my roommates to go to sleep." He lit a cigarette, then offered one to Malfoy. He took it. The things had started to appeal to him more after a couple of weeks, and he and Malfoy often indulged in them together. The work on the cabinet that night was mostly silent, but it was a companionable silence after spending so much of the summer plotting together. Harry was depressed to realize he felt more relaxed with Malfoy now than he had with any of his housemates since getting on the train. They didn't manage to make much progress that night, and went back to their dormitories around midnight. Since prefect rounds ended at eleven and teachers patrolled until one, Malfoy accepted Harry's offer of an invisible escort to the dungeons. He didn't do it without grumbling about the secrecy of the Slytherin dormitories, but Harry told him bluntly that he'd been there before and it was no secret. He refused to explain any further.

 

None of Harry's roommates commented on his sudden desire to change behind closed doors, and he was grateful for the lack of notice. At breakfast, McGonagall handed out schedules. For each of the sixth years she had to go through the list of OWL scores and cross-check with their class registration, adding a significant delay. 

“So, Potter, Potter…” said Professor McGonagall, consulting her notes as she turned to Harry. “Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Transfiguration… all fine. I must say, I was pleased with your Transfiguration mark, Potter, very pleased. Now, why haven’t you applied to continue with Potions? I thought it was your ambition to become an Auror?”

Harry didn't see himself being an Auror now that he was a Death Eater, but couldn't exactly explain that to his Head of House. Without another reason prepared, he blamed his OWL score and Snape's high standards for his NEWT students. 

"Professor Slughorn is perfectly happy to accept Exceeds Expectations students for his NEWT class, Mr. Potter. I'll register you for the class right away. I'm sure you can borrow the supplies until you get some by owl order - Slughorn will be pleased to teach you."

Harry shrugged and noncommittally muttered a thanks. He'd had difficulty brewing the potions he'd planned to, and maybe Slughorn would actually teach Harry enough about the techniques involved to improve his results.

 

Harry had a free period first, which he spent with Ron in the common room. For Harry, the bittersweet feeling of their conversations was intensified by being here. Ron was his first friend, and he knew he would lose him when the truth about his choices eventually came out. The Gryffindor common room seemed to remind Harry of that fact, thinking of how their friendship had grown here.

Their first class was Defense, and they met Hermione outside. Snape was as unpleasant as ever, but Harry found he could relate when the man spoke lovingly about the Dark Arts. Ron looked disgusted, and Harry tried to school his expression into something like shock. While practicing nonverbal spells, Snape turned his wand on Harry to demonstrate. Harry reacted instinctively, casting  _protego_ out loud and sending his professor back against the wall.

“Do you remember me telling you we are practicing nonverbal spells, Potter?”

“Yes,” said Harry stiffly.

“Yes, sir.”

“There’s no need to call me ‘sir,’ Professor.” The words had escaped him before he knew what he was saying. Several people gasped, including Hermione. Behind Snape, however, Ron, Dean, and Seamus grinned appreciatively.

“Detention, Saturday night, my office,” said Snape. “I do not take cheek from anyone, Potter. not even-" the professor hesitated for a moment, clearly unwilling to call Harry any variation of the insults he was accustomed to. Savior, celebrity, Chosen One, Golden Boy - none fit anymore. "You," he finally finished.

 

On the way to break, a note was delivered to Harry from the Headmaster. He was to start his private lessons on Saturday night. His first thought was that he got out of his detention. His second was that Snape must have kept quiet about Harry's deal with the Dark Lord. Harry had thought Dumbledore was still unaware as he hadn't been attacked, arrested, chastised, or even looked upon with sad disapproval, but it was nice to have some assurance. After lunch and two more free periods for Ron and Harry, one of which Hermione joined them for, it was time for the trio to go to Potions.

 

The book Harry borrowed was falling apart at the binding, and covered in notes. Harry was irritated by that, considering checking the cupboard for a different one, until he realized that the notes were improved instructions. Following the "Half-blood Prince", as the previous owner had called himself, Harry managed to brew the best potion in the class and win a dose of Felix Felicis.

Hermione berated him for using the altered recipe, but it had clearly worked and Harry refused to give up the advantage he'd found. The tension it caused made him wonder if they would spend the time he hand left with his friends fighting, but she seemed willing to remain friendly with him as long as they were talking about something else.

 


	14. The Private Lesson

When Harry arrived in Dumbledore's office on Saturday night, he was told vaguely that he would be learning the old man's guesses and theories through watching memories in the pensieve. Dumbledore assured him that it was directly related to the prophecy. Harry tried to get more details to report to the Dark Lord, but Dumbledore refused to elaborate until the 'time was right'. They watched a memory of the Dark Lord's grandfather, mother, and uncle on the day the two men were arrested. Afterwards Dumbledore told Harry that the men had spent time in prison and by the time they were out Merope had run away with the muggle Tom Riddle, presumably by using a love potion.

Harry learned all this with very mixed feelings. Disgust at the behavior of all three Gaunts mingled with pity for the way the Dark Lord's mother had been forced to live and fear that the Dark Lord would not want him to know this history. Harry was also thoroughly baffled at how this would help him defeat the Dark Lord if he were still trying. Harry found himself glad of the choice he'd made yet again. The Dark Lord's orders were difficult for him to follow, emotionally as well as technically, but at least they were direct. Dumbledore had always liked to speak cryptically and keep secrets. He treated Harry like a chess piece he had to move into place, and Harry wasn't even sure he was the king. Harry held no delusions that the Dark Lord thought of him as more than a pawn, but at least he didn't act grandfatherly while he played with Harry's life. 

Harry tried to question Dumbledore about the relevance of all of this. Dumbledore only told him it was important to know his enemy, and that it would be clear later. Frustrated, Harry bid the Headmaster a good night, pausing only to ask about the ring he'd seen both in the memory and on Dumbledore's hand. There was a twinkle in the old man's eye when he confirmed that it was the same one.

 

In the corridor, Harry cast a  _tempus_  charm. It was only nine o'clock, Snape was probably still in his office. Harry wasn't sure if the Dark Lord would think that Harry learning about his family history for unknown reasons was "pertinent", but it was better safe than sorry. Harry had managed three months in the Death Eaters without being put under the cruicatus curse, and he wasn't about to lose that record now. Surely the Dark Lord would prefer more information to less. 

Harry still wasn't sure if Professor Snape was loyal to the Dark Lord, he mused as he walked to the dungeons, but if the professor hadn't ratted him out to the Headmaster yet then Harry was sure he wouldn't. Snape had been the bonder for the Vow Harry had taken, after all. He knew Harry couldn't change his mind, so he couldn't be holding out for that. And if his message didn't get to the Dark Lord or was altered, then Harry would know for the future. He knocked on the heavy door to Snape's office, and heard the call of "Enter" almost immediately.

Harry opened the door. "Your detention was rescheduled for next week, Potter. What are you doing here?"

"I'm not here about detention, sir." Harry replied, and touched his hand to his left forearm over his sleeve. They were alone in the room, but Harry wasn't about to say anything about the Dark Lord without some sort of privacy charms. Professor Snape's expression hardened, and he beckoned Harry inside. When the door closed behind him, Snape cast several wards over it.

"What is it, then?" he asked, his voice heavy with resignation.

Harry's eyes flicked towards the door, but he decided he had to trust the professor's desire for secrecy. "Our Lord told me to contact him through you after my private lessons with Dumbledore, sir. He wants to know what the Headmaster is teaching me."

"And what am I to tell him?"

"Dumbledore is teaching me about the Dark Lord's history, including his ancestors, through memories. Tonight he showed me a memory of the Dark Lord's mother before she left home - and his father - and seemed pleased when I noticed the ring that Marvolo Gaunt wore was the same one Dumbledore had this summer. He refused to tell me why this is going to be important, but he said it was directly related to the broken prophecy and would help me to defeat the Dark Lord."

Snape wrote Harry's message down in code as he spoke it. When Harry was finished, the professor tapped the parchment with his wand, and the writing disappeared. "Wait for a response, Potter. Sit."

"Yes, sir." Harry sat in tense silence for longer than he typically would manage. "Sir?" Professor Snape didn't reply. "Sir, I was wondering- you haven't told the Order?"

"No, Potter. I haven't."

"Er- can I ask why?"

Snape sighed long-sufferingly. "Because Potter, regardless of where my loyalties were before you made that Vow, I have enough sense to see when one side has won and enough self-preservation to stick to that side."

Harry supposed that made sense. He was about to ask if Snape had been loyal to the Order before the summer, but before he could a piece of parchment appeared glowing brightly on Snape's desk. The professor picked it up and examined the coded message. "You are to report the content of further lessons to the Dark Lord, and share the information Dumbledore gives you with no one else. Now go, Potter."

"Yes, sir."

 

In Gryffindor Tower, Ron and Hermione were waiting up for Harry. He felt a flash of guilt that they had waited while he communicated with the Dark Lord, but it couldn't be helped so he pushed it out of his mind. They, of course, wanted to know what Dumbledore had taught him.

"He's showing me memories, of  _his_  history." Harry placed emphasis on the pronoun to avoid having to name the Dark Lord. He wasn't sure he could keep himself from reacting to the pain he knew the Mark would give him if he did. "Dumbledore said I need to know the enemy." Harry was reasonably confident that was in keeping with the Dark Lord's order not to tell anyone what he learned. The fact that his Vow didn't kill him immediately was heartening.

Ron was highly disappointed that Dumbledore wasn't teaching Harry some sort of advanced magic that he could pass on to them, but Hermione went off talking about how the best strategies did require you to know who you were up against. Harry listened politely, and responded noncommittally until he could excuse himself to bed.


	15. The Fall Term

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan to breeze through Harry's sixth year pretty quickly, since it will follow canon fairly closely. The biggest difference will be that Harry is working with Malfoy instead of stalking him. When Harry's seventh year starts, things will be more drawn out.

Fall term passed quickly. Harry's popularity drew a huge crowd to Quidditch trials, and that allowed for him to put together an impressive team. The team practiced hard - when Harry wasn't doing huge amounts of homework or working on the cabinet with Malfoy, he was almost always on the pitch. 

Harry was also able to use these obligations, plus his infrequent private lessons with Dumbledore, as an excuse to avoid Slughorn's "Slug Club" meetings, which suited him perfectly. The man had given him the creeps since their first meeting.

 

Since Pensieve memories gave little opportunity for the Headmaster to be in danger, Harry was forced to agree to trying Malfoy's plans to kill the old man. Their first attempt was a cursed necklace, to be delivered by another student under the imperius curse. Malfoy had suggested Katie Bell, which Harry had shot down with a glare. Katie was his best chaser, and Malfoy was probably hoping that one way or another he'd be able to keep her out for the match.

On their first Hogsmeade visit, a Ravenclaw student was given the necklace. It was wrapped in paper to keep her from touching it, and layered with as many concealment charms as the two teens could manage. It wasn't enough, as the secrecy sensors Mr. Filch was scanning everyone with still picked it up. The Ravenclaw was taken immediately to her Head of House, where she was interrogated. The imperius curse held and she was expelled that night, only her youth protecting her from criminal charges.

The same day, Harry caught Mundungus Fletcher selling stolen goods from Grimmauld Place, and privately swore to himself he'd have the crook's head for it. Briefly Harry was surprised by his own willingness to default to violence, but he dismissed it. He had become desensitized to killing over the summer, and the man was an Order member so he was an enemy. He would have his revenge, and allow himself to enjoy it.

 

 

Harry's second private lesson with Dumbledore was the Monday after that Hogsmeade trip. The memories they viewed this time were of Merope Gaunt selling Slytherin's locket to Borgin and Burke's and of Dumbledore's first meeting with the Dark Lord at eleven years old, who had grown up in an orphanage and been hated by the staff and other children there. Afterwards the Headmaster pointed out the Dark Lord's distaste for being ordinary, which Harry privately thought wasn't such a bad sign even if he personally wouldn't have minded an ordinary life, and his tendency to collect 'trophies' from victims. The last was said with special emphasis.

When Harry made his way to Professor Snape's office afterwards, the contents of his report to the Dark Lord were "Slytherin's locket, the Dark Lord finding out he was a wizard, and a fondness for keeping trophies." The only response was a reminder to tell no one else.

 

Harry and Malfoy continued to meet nightly to work on the cabinet and plot. Things were progressing frustratingly slowly, and their meetings consisted of as much smoking and drinking as they did actual cabinet fixing. Still, having two sets of hands sped things along and allowed both of them to keep up with schoolwork and Quidditch despite their missions. Midway through the term, Harry had to owl order more potions ingredients. He'd been through so much hangover potion and elixir to induce euphoria - which he was now adding mint to, courtesy of the Half-Blood Prince, which allowed him to take a larger dose without odd side effects - that he'd gone through the entire supply he'd purchased in Diagon Alley. He was mildly concerned by this, since he'd thought it would last the year, but it wasn't as if he didn't have a mountain of gold to buy a few potions ingredients.

 

Gryffindor won the Quidditch match against Slytherin, and Harry smirked proudly at Malfoy with the snitch in his hand. It was a less malicious smirk than it would have been a year ago - the two had developed a definite camaraderie by now. At the after party, Harry noticed that Ron and Hermione were fighting. He couldn't figure out the problem, though, as Ron had his tongue down Lavender Brown's throat and Hermione didn't know what the issue was. Ginny also seemed short with her brother, and Harry wondered when he'd gotten so distant from his friends that he hadn't noticed any of this until now.

 

When people started asking Harry who he'd be taking to Slughorn's Christmas party, he made sure everyone knew he wouldn't be attending. It didn't stop all the girls, and a few boys, asking him if he was sure he didn't need a date but it did seem to curb the student body's enthusiasm. While that was happening, Harry was with Malfoy in the Room of Hidden things. Their first test of the cabinet had gone catastrophically, and they were redoubling their efforts. 

While they worked, Malfoy informed Harry that his latest package of chocolates from his mother had included a note from the Dark Lord that they were both to be present at Malfoy Manor over the holidays. Harry found that ominous, but knew there was no refusing. Before leaving the Room, Harry asked Malfoy to write him a fake letter from his relatives, and he mailed it to himself with Hedwig before returning to the dorm.

Back in Gryffindor Tower, Ron was glowering over not being invited to the party and then being abandoned by his best friend who wasn't even at the party. Harry told Ron he'd needed to clear his head, and was grateful for the effectiveness of cleaning charms at keeping him from smelling like smoke. If Ron cottoned on that he was smoking, and any of the older Weasleys found out, it would be a painful experience. And he didn't want his last time with the family that had treated him like one of their own to be full of that kind of tension.

 

The next day at breakfast, Hedwig delivered the fake letter and Harry groaned theatrically upon reading it. Ron took it from his hands and looked it over.

_We find, distastefully, that we require your presence this winter holiday. You will return, and find your own way from London, or will not be welcome back next summer magical protection or not._

_No need to reply._

_Petunia Dursley_

Ron was shocked and sympathetic, as was Hermione when she read the note. Harry pulled up some of the dread he was feeling about meeting with the Dark Lord and having made no progress on the missions to look suitably depressed. His friends suggested asking Dumbledore if he could do something, but Harry said he didn't want to bother the Headmaster. Holidays were only two weeks, after all, and he had survived much longer than that with his relatives before.

"Rotten luck, mate" was the only other thing Ron could say.

 

Before he knew it, it was time to ride the Express again. Harry packed all his things as carefully as he had in September, and boarded the train with his friends. Jealousy at their carefree holiday mingled with actual relief that he wouldn't have to be in the middle of Ron and Hermione's tension for the next two weeks as the train pulled away.


	16. The Manor

After bidding his friends goodbye at King's Cross, Harry put on his invisibility cloak and walked over to where Malfoy was waiting with his mother. He tapped on Malfoy's shoulder three times - the signal they'd agreed upon. Malfoy met his mother's eye meaningfully, and she allowed an invisible Harry to grab her arm before apparating away. In the entrance hall of Malfoy Manor, Harry removed his cloak and stuffed it back in his pocket.

"The Dark Lord wishes to see you both immediately in the study."

Both teens were pale with worry, and murmured indistinct replies before hurrying to their Lord.

 

"Harry, Draco, come in. Progress report?" The dangerous tone in the Dark Lord's voice made Harry drop to his knees, bowing immediately. Malfoy, who had been about to sit across from their Lord, quickly followed his lead.

"Our first attempt on Dumbledore's life was - unsuccessful, my Lord. We are currently rethinking our strategy," Harry said in a hurry.

"And what strategy have you come up with?"

Malfoy responded faster this time. "We can't get anything dangerous into the school because the security is too tight, my Lord, but Dumbledore has been leaving the school frequently this year. We are currently trying to devise a way to follow him."

"I see. And why can you not simply use your wands to kill him?"

It was Harry's turn to speak. "I watched him duel you at the Ministry last spring, my Lord. In a fight, we could never best him when he proved a challenge for even you. And in the castle, where he is the master of the wards, we can never surprise him."

The Dark Lord seemed to think on that for a moment, and eventually seemed to decide their answer was satisfactory. Not that he was pleased. "And your other task?"

"We made a breakthrough with the cabinet just two days ago, my Lord," Malfoy replied. "It isn't ready yet, but it will be before the end of the spring term my Lord."

"Perhaps you need incentive to hurry. A reminder?  _Crucio._ "

The curse was spoken lazily, but left Malfoy writhing in pain on the ground in a way Harry was sure a Malfoy was never supposed to, screams wrenched from his throat. Harry didn't dare move, knowing he was next and knowing that he had to take it.  _I chose this_ , he reminded himself.  _It's better than having no choices at all._

Harry reevaluated that thought when the torture curse struck him. He'd been under it before, at the end of the Triwizard Tournament, but he'd forgotten how awful it was. How could he  _forget_ this pain? But then, how could he  _remember_ it? There was no way to describe it, he couldn't comprehend the pain well enough to commit it to memory. Just as he was thinking he was going to die of it, the Dark Lord ended the curse. Harry struggled back to his kneeling position, unsure of when he'd fallen over, and bowed his head.

"See to it that you finish your tasks in a timely manner. Draco, you are dismissed. Harry, rise."

Malfoy left the room while Harry struggled to his feet, the former having had more time to recover from their reminder. When he was standing, the Dark Lord addressed him again. "You've told no one what the Headmaster has shown you?"

"No, my Lord. The messages you've received from Professor Snape are the most detail I've shared with anyone." He hesitated for a moment, but knew that when faced with a ruthless legilimens honesty was the best policy. "My Gryffindor friends required some appeasement after the first meeting with him, but I told them only that I was studying your history, my Lord. I've told them nothing else."

"See that you don't. I believe the old coot is working up to showing you the measures I have taken to prevent my death. If he does, do not tell Severus. Only report to me that I was correct, and I shall summon you to find out the details."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Were you not sworn so tightly to me, I would have to kill you for knowing. As it is, I am not pleased about it. If you share the information, I will consider it a direct betrayal."

The Dark Lord didn't have to remind Harry that betrayal would mean instant death. He swallowed nervously. "Yes, my Lord."

"You are dismissed."

"Yes, my Lord."

 

Harry was given a guest room at the Manor for the duration of the break. As soon as he was settled in, Malfoy was at his door. "We need to plan. I can't go through that again."

Harry nodded, and Malfoy came inside. "I've been trying to think of ways to follow the Headmaster out of the school, but I doubt it's possible," Harry said. "I'm pretty sure he floos out from his office, and we wouldn't be able to follow him there."

"Do you have another plan, or are we going back to the part where you shoot down my ideas without offering alternatives?" Malfoy drawled.

"Do the Hogwarts wards detect poisons? I know that any legal potions ingredient can be owl ordered, and Filch is the one checking the mail. He doesn't know what potion a set of ingredients make, or he'd have taken issue with mine I'm sure."

Malfoy nodded carefully. "I don't believe the wards detect poison, but we would need to find one that acts quickly enough that the Headmaster couldn't call for help."

Harry dug out the Half-Blood Prince's potions book and started flipping through it. He hadn't told Ron or Hermione how Dark a lot of the things in this book were - it was causing enough tension with them without that tidbit. He found the page with the Draught of Living Death, and Malfoy snorted.

"I thought you were doing better in Potions, Potter. Draught of Living Death is a sleeping potion, not a poison."

Harry gave him a scornful look. "I know that, Malfoy. This copy is annotated, and it says here that swapping the asphodel for lily of the valley makes for a powerful poison."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

"Is that how you've done so well this year? An annotated book?"

"Are you going to tell Slughorn?"

"I should, with him singing your praises all day, but he might take it and we need that recipe."

Harry smirked. "The owner of this book also made spells. A few have been pretty useful. You can look through them, if you like."

Malfoy took the book out of curiosity, asking Harry about a few of the incantations. He'd tried  _muffliato,_   _levicorpus_ , and  _langlock_ but then Malfoy found one Harry had wondered about but not tested. " _Sectumsempra_ , for enemies. Tried that one?"

"Haven't faced many enemies at Hogwarts. Except Dumbledore, of course, and we know all the arguments against raising a wand to him."

Malfoy nodded. "Wanna try it out? I can get a rat from the house elves."

"Sure," Harry grinned.

In moments, an elf had brought them each an immobilized rat. Together, they cast the curse. Each rat was suddenly sporting several deep gashes that were bleeding profusely.

"A cutting curse. I should have guessed from the incantation, but I'd hoped for more."

"I don't particularly want these rats bleeding out where I'm sleeping. Fix them up?"

Malfoy shrugged, and cast  _episky_. Nothing happened. Frowning, he tried a more significant healing spell. That was also ineffective. Harry then tried a spell he'd found to cauterize wounds, and even that failed to stop the bleeding. "This curse just got more interesting."

Harry flipped a few pages, Malfoy looking over his shoulder, until they found what looked like a counter-curse. " _Vulnera Sanentur_ , sung three times." Malfoy cast the counter, and the gashes on his rat stopped bleeding and sealed. They left behind large scars where the rat's hair would not re-grow, and Harry stared at it.

"I'm glad I didn't decide to test that on McLaggen. He's a prat, but I don't want to kill him. Probably."

Malfoy stared at him. "You've been just- trying these on people?"

"Er- yeah? Probably not smart, now that I've seen this one, but none of the others have been so dangerous."

"Merlin Potter, you're an idiot. I can't decide if it's better to be with you or against you."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. We got sidetracked - we haven't figured out how we're going to get Dumbledore the poison after we brew it."

"Right. He'll need to eat or drink it. Does he ever leave you alone in his office?"

"Er- we use a pensieve sometimes. Maybe I could get him to go in first and have a moment or two?"

"If he's got a cup of tea on his desk, that could work. We'll brew the poison when we get back to school, and you'll take a vial to your next lesson with him and try it."

"What if he doesn't drink it, and a portrait tells him it was me?"

Malfoy grimaced. "That would be bad. What if I came in with you, using your cloak?"

"No!" Harry shouted. "Sorry. The Dark Lord doesn't want anyone to know what Dumbledore is teaching me. If you overheard, it would probably mean my death."

"If we don't do this, we're dead anyway."

"There has to be another way to get him the poison. We keep trying."

The two teens spent a lot of time in the Malfoy library, looking for a charm Harry could perform to keep portraits from spying on him. Eventually, they found one and Harry threw himself into practicing it with the Malfoy portraits until he could perform the spell reliably. They had their next plan.

 

On Christmas, gifts from Harry's friends found him at the Manor. He was glad that only meant the owls were doing their jobs and not that everyone knew where he was. Harry tried to stay in his guest room while the Malfoy family opened gifts, to give them time as a family, but Mrs. Malfoy insisted he join them. It was awkward, but not entirely unpleasant. Harry was glad that the Malfoys hadn't gotten him a gift - it would have been awkward since he'd have nothing to give them in return. 

That evening, the Dark Lord hosted a revel for his Death Eaters to celebrate the holiday. At first Harry was sickened by the idea of it, but as with most things in this new life he found it easier with a potion and a few drinks. A large group of prisoners from raids were brought in, bound but conscious. Some were muggles and some were mages, but all of them were enemies to the Dark Lord. All around Harry Death Eaters were taking their pleasure as they liked - be that torture or rape. In some cases, the two were combined.

Harry tested a few new curses he'd wanted to try on one of the prisoners, and before long he was delighting in the rush of the Dark magic he cast. The next one lost his fingers and toes one by one as Harry tested different cutting and bone-breaking curses. Then he severed the man's feet and hands, and used a gouging curse to take chunks of flesh from his legs and torso. Blood was pooling, but Harry cauterized the wounds to keep the man alive. He then cast the cruciatus curse, uncaring that it had put him personally through so much pain so recently. Being on this end of the curse was ecstasy. When his victim passed out from pain, Harry stopped the torture curse and cast  _rennervate_ to wake the man up. Finally, he cast the transmogrification torture - the fate he hoped to give to his relatives once he'd perfected it. The victim's body contorted and bubbled, sprouting gruesome new additions while the man screamed in agony. Harry laughed when several of his blood vessels ruptured, spraying blood over his torturer. When the man finally died, Harry went to get a drink.

 

The rest of the holiday passed uneventfully - the most action the teens saw being a Seeker's game on the Malfoy family's private Quidditch pitch. When they returned to King's Cross, Harry wore his invisibility cloak until he was on the train then went to find Ron and Hermione. When he was tight-lipped about what the Dursleys had needed and if they'd been awful to him, his friends assumed things had been especially difficult and dropped the subject.


	17. The Poison

Brewing the poisonous sleeping potion variant was practically child's play after months of brewing under the Half-Blood Prince's tutelage. After testing their poison on several small animals, Harry and Malfoy bottled several doses with extreme caution. It had proven immediately deadly, and if the test subjects' screams had been any indication it was a painful death.

Harry carried a vial of the poison everywhere he went, refusing to be caught off guard. For his own safety, the vial was charmed to be unbreakable. A bright red label ensured he would not mistake it for a hangover potion or for the Elixir to Induce Euphoria that he now took almost daily. 

 

It wasn't long after they brewed the poison that Harry was called to the Headmaster's office for his next session. Dumbledore discussed with Harry at first what the Dark Lord was like in his early years of school. Harry asked no questions, and it seemed to aggravate the old wizard. Still, Harry had no intentions of digging deeper into something that his Lord was already unhappy to have him know.

When Dumbledore went into the first memory, Harry bent as if to tie his shoe. Working quickly once he was alone in the room, he cast the anti-portrait privacy charm, then dumped the full vial of poison into the teacup on Dumbledore's desk. He then followed the Headmaster into the pensieve to find the young Dark Lord conversing in Parseltongue with his uncle. 

"Sorry, sir. I didn't want to trip. Now that I think about it, is it possible to trip in a memory? Would it hurt?"

"Indeed it would, Harry," the Headmaster replied a bit shortly. "Pay attention now."

"Yes, sir."

The memory ended abruptly, and the Headmaster told Harry that Morfin Gaunt had confessed in detail to the murder he couldn't remember happening. In reality, it was likely that the Dark Lord had done it and framed his last living relative.

The second memory Dumbledore showed Harry that night was a purposely distorted memory from Slughorn of the Dark Lord asking him about something called a horcrux. Dumbledore tasked Harry with getting the unaltered memory from Slughorn. Harry tried to press on what a horcrux was, to find out if this was the protection the Dark Lord had told him not to mention to Professor Snape, but Dumbledore refused to elaborate until Harry retrieved the memory.  _He's consistent,_ thought Harry.  _Consistently aggravating._

 

 

In Professor Snape's office that night, Harry stumbled over what to say. "The Dark Lord's visit to Morfin Gaunt, and an altered memory from Slughorn that might mean our Lord was correct," was what he eventually decided on. Professor Snape waited for Harry to continue, and glared at him when he didn't. 

"Correct about what, Potter?"

"I cannot say, Professor. Our Lord told me not to tell you, and only to report that he was correct if this topic came up."

Professor Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, but sent the message as is. Harry sat to wait for the reply, but instead felt the burning of his Mark. He clasped his arm tightly and grimaced.

"You'll cover for my absence, as our Lord asked over the summer?"

Professor Snape looked at him with a raised brow. "You are in detention for your rudeness to me in the corridors. Go, Potter."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied as he uncovered his portkey and touched a finger to it. 

 

When the familiar sensations faded, Harry found himself in a sitting room. It looked like one of the suites in Malfoy Manor, which Harry realized meant he might be where the Dark Lord slept. It was odd, to think of this powerful and terrifying man needing a bedroom. He knelt.

"My Lord,"

"Describe the memory from Slughorn."

"Yes, my Lord. It was poorly altered, Dumbledore says by Slughorn himself. He has tasked me with retrieving the unaltered version. In what I saw, you approached him after a Slug Club meeting and he was complimentary, but suddenly said that you'd 'go wrong'. That was the first part of the memory that was altered. The second was after you asked about- horcruxes." Harry spoke with his head bowed, but when he said that word he could feel the Dark Lord's oppressive anger radiating through the room. "In the version of the memory that Slughorn gave to Dumbledore he told you that he didn't know anything about them and would never teach about it if he did, then sent you away with orders not to speak of them again."

There was a pregnant silence, and finally the Dark Lord bid Harry to rise. "You are to make only a token effort to retrieve the memory from Slughorn. Do not put any effort into it, and should you somehow still succeed do not tell Dumbledore that you have."

"Yes, my Lord."

"I will tell you no more about horcruxes than the old coot has so far. However, should you find information on them on your own, report it to me. I have a theory that I wish to examine."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Dismissed."

 

Back in his bed in Gryffindor tower, Harry realized he couldn't remember if the Headmaster had drunk his tea.


	18. The Spring Term

Dumbledore was at breakfast the next morning, alive and well, so he must not have drunk the tea. Before Harry had another chance to try dosing the Headmaster, Ron found a vial of the potion on the floor of their dorm room and drank it. Harry realized with ice in his gut that he must have thought it was something of his own, a headache potion or some such. 

Harry reacted quickly, levitating Ron's convulsing body and running to Slughorn's office. When the door opened, the professor seemed to just be waking. All Harry could do was shout "BEZOAR!" as he pushed inside with his friend. Slughorn watched in confusion as Harry tore through the supply closet until he found one and shoved it down his friend's throat - barely taking a moment to be thankful that he'd seen that note in the Half-Blood Prince's book.

The convulsing stopped, but Ron didn't wake. "He'll need the hospital wing. What happened?"

What happened. Harry hadn't thought about a cover in his rush to cure his friend. "He ate something- it was mine, but I think he thought it was his?"

"Do you mean, my boy, that someone tried to poison you?"

"I- I hope not? It kind of sounds like it, though, now that you say it." 

Before Slughorn could push, they arrived at the hospital wing and Madame Pomfrey's bustling made conversation impossible. Harry used the reprieve to solidify his stumbling excuses into a passable story for when he was asked again. Hopefully, his earlier incoherence would be dismissed as shock. In minutes, the Weasley family was there thanking him profusely for saving Ron's life. Harry's stomach twisted in guilt that he was the reason it was in danger in the first place.

 

"I didn't see what he swallowed, but I think it may have come from my trunk. He was midway through a sentence when he collapsed to the floor and started shaking. As soon as he started reacting to the poison, I rushed to Slughorn's office because I was sure he'd have bezoars and I didn't know how long Ron had. Will he be okay?"

"He'll need to stay in the infirmary awhile. The poison damaged his internal organs, and they'll need to be repaired. Your friend should make a full recovery. You said that the poison was in your things? What was it doing there?"

Harry shrugged and looked down, hoping that his guilt didn't show. "I'm not sure, I don't even know what it was. Slughorn pointed out that someone may have been trying to poison me."

Madame Pomfrey looked alarmed at that. "Well, Mr. Potter. I'll alert the Headmaster and send him to comb your possessions for any other threats to your person. You, of course, have the right to be there."

Harry nodded, doing his best to keep the terror out of his expression, and rushed to the dormitory to get there before Dumbledore did. Death Eater mask, cloaks, spare wand, questionable potions, cigarettes, and the Half-Blood Prince's book were all shoved into a knapsack. Harry looked around wildly for a place to store all of it, and happened upon a loose floorboard under his bed. The cavity underneath it had likely been a hiding spot before, and Harry managed to close it back up before the knock at the door came. 

The Headmaster found nothing, but urged Harry to be especially careful in the coming days. Harry only nodded silently. 

 

Harry decided he wanted to know what horcruxes were. If he wasn't going to get the memory from Slughorn then Dumbledore would never tell him, and the Dark Lord had essentially encouraged him to research them. He found nothing in the library, even after using his invisibility cloak to scour the Restricted Section for several nights running. He was about to give up when he remembered that he owned the Black family library.

"Kreacher!" The elf appeared, as ill-tempered as ever. Harry paid no mind to his grumbled complaints. "Tell me, do you know the contents of the library at the house?"

"Yes, Master, Kreacher knows the books well."

"Bring me any book that I have on the topic of horcruxes." Kreacher disappeared without agreeing to the task - horrible manners for a house elf - and reappeared moments later with two books. 

"Is Kreacher dismissed, Master?"

"Yes Kreacher, go back to the house and stay there unless you have a report for the Dark Lord."

"Yes, Master," the miserable elf replied before apparating out once again. 

Harry was alone in the Room of Requirement, which had taken the form of a comfortable sitting room in Gryffindor red for Harry to read. He opened the books and found that each had just one chapter on his topic of interest. In the first book,  _Magick Moste Evile_ , actually only brought horcruxes up to say that they wouldn't give any information about them, which Harry thought was ridiculous. The second,  _Secrets of the Darkest Art_ , gave more information.

A horcrux was a container to store a part of a mage's soul, preventing them from dying if their body was destroyed. The soul piece to store was split off by committing murder, then enacting a ritual involving the corpse of the victim and the object to be turned into a horcrux. If the Dark Lord had one of these, that would explain his resurrection. Reading about the ritual was so foul that Harry found himself desperately in need of a drink and a cigarette. Maybe two.

 

At Harry's next meeting with the Headmaster, Dumbledore wasn't pleased with Harry's lack of effort towards obtaining the memory.  _That's fine. Your displeasure won't kill me._ They viewed two more memories - first of the young Dark Lord meeting with Hepzibah Smith and seeing her treasures, and second of the Dark Lord applying for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position after Dumbledore had become Headmaster. Dumbledore then told Harry that they would have no more meetings until the memory was retrieved.

Harry debated telling the Headmaster that he knew what horcruxes were now and digging for more information, but he had a feeling that the Dark Lord knew exactly what the Headmaster was after. Prying wouldn't help the Dark Lord, so it wouldn't help Harry. Instead, he asked a question.

"Professor? These horcrux things. You're looking for them, aren't you? That's why you had the ring over the summer."

"Indeed I am, Harry. If you retrieve the memory, it will make the search much easier. Perhaps I shall even bring you along the next time I locate one."

An opportunity to be off the castle grounds with the Headmaster would be invaluable. Harry's enthusiasm was genuine when he thanked the Headmaster and left.

 

"Hepzibah Smith's treasures, and the Dark Lord meeting with Dumbledore about a teaching post. Last meeting unless the memory is obtained. Additionally, I've researched the topic the Dark Lord spoke of with me during my last summons." Professor Snape either didn't care or had learned that pressing for information would get him none in this position. He sent the message without comment, and almost immediately Harry's Mark burned. "I expect I have detention again, Professor." Before Snape could reply, Harry touched his portkey and appeared again in the sitting room of the Dark Lord's suite.

"My Lord," Harry said from his knees. 

"Rise, and tell me more of what you've learned."

"The memories, my Lord, or the horcruxes?"

"Horcruxes. Tonight's memories seemed rather uninteresting to me, having lived both of them personally."

"Yes, my Lord. The Black library contains a copy of  _Secrets of the Darkest Art_ , where I was able to find the ritual for creating a horcrux."

The Dark Lord smirked. "And how did you find it?"

"Unsettling, my Lord, but- also fascinating."

"Indeed. I wish to examine the connection between us more closely. I am going to use legilimency to do it."

"Yes, my Lord."

Harry braced himself for the onslaught, but it was surprisingly gentle. The Dark Lord's mind felt familiar in Harry's, which made sense after having so many visions of him last year and then being possessed, but this was the least malevolent Harry had ever felt it. The probe went deep into Harry's mind, but caused no pain besides an aching in Harry's scar. After several minutes in the back of Harry's mind, the Dark Lord withdrew.

"Dumbledore would indeed have sent you to your death."

"My Lord?"

"I must research the implications of this discovery before I say anything on the topic, but expect a summons from me when I do."

"Yes, my Lord. May I ask something of you, my Lord?"

The look in the older wizard's red eyes clearly said that Harry was pushing his luck, but it was too late to back down now. "You may ask."

"Thank you, my Lord. Dumbledore has said that if I retrieve the memory from Slughorn, he will take me along the next time he finds one of your horcruxes. If he did, it would give me an opportunity to attack him where he doesn't have the advantage of the castle's wards, and I could prevent him from obtaining it. Would it be pertinent for me to seek the memory more earnestly?"

The Dark Lord steepled his fingers in thought. "That memory contains information I do not want Dumbledore to have - even if he were to die the night he learned it, the knowledge could be preserved in his portrait and passed on." Harry's face fell, but the Dark Lord continued. "However, I am infinitely more skilled at the Mind Arts than my old Potions professor. It is possible I could give you another altered version of the encounter, altered imperceptibly of course, that you could present Dumbledore with to appease him. Yes, that is what I'll do. I will have Narcissa send the memory to Draco when it is prepared, and he will pass it to you."

"Thank you, my Lord. That will be very helpful."

"See that you achieve what you have promised with this help."

"Yes, my Lord."

 

Harry and Draco - and at some point in February they conceded that they ought to be on first name terms in private - were making significant progress on the cabinet. Harry had told Draco about his plan to take care of the Headmaster outside the castle, so they were now spending their full effort on the first task they'd been given. The Dark Lord still seemed unhappy with their pace, however, and summoned them for Easter holidays. Harry had a hard time convincing his friends to let him leave the castle for that week unimpeded, but he continued to dodge their questions until they gave up. At the Manor, both teens were placed under the cruciatus curse again, and the Dark Lord sent them off with the warning that their families - blood in Draco's case and chosen in Harry's - would not be safe if they did not succeed soon. Harry and Draco drowned the pain and worry in firewhiskey that night, and when they returned to the castle they increased their meetings from twice to four times weekly. 

 

The day after returning, Harry got a note from Hagrid that Aragog, his pet Acromantula, had died after being ill all year. He, Ron, and Hermione were invited to the funeral. He shuddered, but agreed to attend out of some misguided sympathy for his friend. Ron and Hermione were not so easily persuaded, and Harry desperately wished he hadn't been during the incredibly awkward funeral.

 

Harry received the memory from Draco a week after Easter, and promptly brought it to the Headmaster's office. 


	19. The Memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the memory will be copied from J. K. Rowling's Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, chapter 23. Changes between her version of the conversation and mine are intentional, no matter how small. My theory is that the Dark Lord hid the important changes to the memory by changing smaller aspects throughout the memory. Avoid drawing attention to what he changed by making the whole memory seem that way. I'm pretty proud of this theory, and don't think I'll have a chance to put it into the story proper, so here you go!

The Headmaster was so pleased that Harry had gotten the memory that he didn't ask how, which suited Harry who didn't have a story. Immediately, they entered the pensieve.

 

_“Sir is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?”_

_"Tom, Tom, if I knew I couldn’t tell you,” said Slughorn, his voice full of mock reproach. “I must say, I’d like to know where you get your information, boy, more knowledgeable than half the staff, you are.”_ _Riddle smiled only smiled charmingly. “What with your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn’t, and your careful flattery of the people who matter — thank you for the pineapple, by the way, you’re quite right, it is my favorite — I confidently expect you to rise to Minister of Magic within twenty years. Fifteen, if you keep sending me pineapple, I have excellent contacts at the Ministry.”_

_The young Dark Lord merely smiled as the others laughed. “I don’t know that politics would suit me, sir,” he said when the laughter had died away. “I don’t have the right kind of background, for one thing.” A couple of the boys around him smirked at each other. Harry was sure they were aware of the Dark Lord's apparent descent from their founder._

_“_ _Nonsense,” said Slughorn briskly, “couldn’t be plainer you come from decent Wizarding stock, a skilled and powerful wizard like you. No, you’ll go far, Tom, I’ve never been wrong about a student yet.”_

_The small golden clock standing upon Slughorn’s desk chimed eleven o’clock behind him and he sent the group to bed. The Dark Lord stayed behind. “Look sharp, Tom, you don’t want to be caught out of bed out of hours, and you a prefect."_

_“Sir, I wanted to ask you something.”_

_“Ask away, then, m’boy, ask away.”_

_“Sir, I wondered what you know about Horcruxes?"_

_Slughorn stared at him, clearly uncomfortable. “Is this a project for Defense Against the Dark Arts, Tom?”_

_“Not exactly, sir,” said Riddle. “I came across the term while reading and didn't quite understand the term."_

_“No… well… you’d be hard-pressed to find a book at Hogwarts that’ll give you details on Horcruxes, Tom, that’s very Dark stuff, very Dark indeed,” said Slughorn._

_“But you obviously know all about them, sir? I mean, a wizard of your caliber — sorry, I mean, if you can’t tell me, obviously — I just knew if anyone could tell me, you could, as well-read and well-connected as you are.”_

_The Dark Lord's manipulation was flawless, and Slughorn was eating out of his hand. “Well,” said Slughorn uncomfortably, “what harm could there be in giving you an overview. Just so that you understand the term. A Horcrux is the word used for an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul.”_

_“I don’t quite understand how that works, though, sir,”_

_“Well, you split your soul, you see,” said Slughorn, “and hide part of it in an object outside the body. Then, even if a wizard's body is killed, the extra piece of soul lives on and prevents their death. But of course, existence in such a form would be wretched, very undesirable.”_

_"How do you split your soul?”_

_“Well,” said Slughorn uncomfortably, “It's unnatural you know, but it's done by committing murder. Killing tears the soul. The wizard intent upon creating a Horcrux can then use the damage to his advantage. He would encase the torn portion —”_

_“Encase? But how —?”_

_“There is a spell or some such, do not ask me, I don’t know!” said a clearly distressed Slughorn. “Do I look as though I have tried it — do I look like a killer?”_

_“_ _No, sir, of course not,” said Riddle quickly. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to offend.”_

_“Not at all, not offended,” said Slughorn, “I suppose it is natural for such a talented wizard as yourself to feel some curiosity about these things.”_

_“Yes, sir,” said Riddle. “What I don’t understand, though — just out of curiosity — I mean, would one Horcrux be much use? Can you only split your soul once? Wouldn’t it be better, make you stronger, to have your soul in more pieces?"_

_Slughorn very clearly did not want to answer, but he also didn't want to let his favorite pupil down. "To my knowledge, no one has ever tried to create more than one Horcrux. To kill even one person is horrible. But a theory I have heard suggests that each bit of damage to the soul makes it more unstable. A wizard could not survive with it in more than five pieces, that is four horcruxes. Any more than that, and the soul may collapse on itself._ _Of course, this is all hypothetical, isn't it? Academic discussion?” “_

_Yes, sir, of course,” said Riddle quickly._

 

The memory ended abruptly, and Harry found himself in the Headmaster's office once again. Dumbledore's face bore a frown, and Harry panicked. 

"Was there a problem, sir? Did Slughorn give me another altered memory?"

"No, nothing like that Harry. This appears to be intact. It just wasn't what I expected to hear." The weight then seemed to lift from Dumbledore's features. "I have told you I can make mistakes, and this is exactly why this memory was so important! Besides, the news is better than I had feared. I doubt that Voldemort would be willing to risk himself so recklessly to make more than four horcruxes after that warning. I had feared that he would base the number he created on arithmancy - choosing a powerful magical number like seven or thirteen."

"So- he can't be killed?"

"Not until the horcruxes have been destroyed. The good news is that we are halfway there. Two have been destroyed already. First was the diary in your second year - that was a horcrux, I am sure of it - and the second was the ring I obtained over the summer. Can you guess what I believe the other two are?"

Harry thought for a moment. "The founder's treasures that he took from Hepzibah Smith?"

"Indeed, Harry. Were there more horcruxes, I would assume he would have targeted an object from each founder. However, anything of Ravenclaw's would be highly difficult to find and with the disdain that Voldemort holds for Gryffindor, I am unsurprised that those two were the ones to make the cut."

"Sir, how can these be found?"

"I've been digging into places that were important to Voldemort in his early life. Indeed, I believe I have found another one. I told you that if you obtained the memory, you could accompany me. I think we will go tonight. Bring your invisibility cloak and your wand, and meet me in the entrance hall after dinner."

"Yes, sir."


	20. The Cave

Harry collected the things the Headmaster had told him to, along with his hornbeam wand and the bottle of Felix Felicis he'd won at the beginning of the year. Before going to meet Dumbledore, Harry sought out Draco and told him that it was time for him to put their plan into action. Draco told him at the same time that he'd made the final breakthrough on the cabinet - it was ready.

The two teens looked at each other, realizing how important, and how difficult, this day would be.

 

Harry met Dumbledore in the entrance hall like he was asked to, and followed him out of the school under the invisibility cloak. Once they were past the wards, Dumbledore side-along apparated Harry to a cliff by the sea. The atmosphere was harsh, and Harry could tell why the Dark Lord would hide something as important as his soul here. They had to swim to the cave, where Dumbledore said with a disappointed chuckle that the door required blood to enter. Harry was sure that there was more to it, some sort of curse tied to the blood or something, as the Dark Lord would never allow his enemies to leave alive if they came to this cave. He didn't offer to make the payment in the Headmaster's place when the old man drew his knife.

Harry stayed quiet when they entered the next room, which held a large lake with a glowing green light at the center. He had no desire to make small talk with the soon-to-be-dead Headmaster. The old man didn't seem to notice Harry's silence, and went about talking to himself about various methods to cross the lake until he found the boat, invisible beneath the water. 

Harry silently wondered how he would go about the killing while they rode across the silent waters. He and Draco hadn't actually planned out the details, since they didn't know what kind of environment Harry would be going into with the Headmaster. Harry's hope right now was that there was some protection on the horcrux that would weaken the Headmaster more than the payment of blood had appeared to and make it easy to finish the man off. Behind the Headmaster's back, Harry swallowed a mouthful of the Felix Felicis potion. 

 

A strong hunch told Harry to let the Headmaster drink the potion. It was exactly what he'd been hoping for, after all. He knew all the right things to say as he coaxed the old man into swallowing goblet after goblet of the vile drink. With each one, the Headmaster became more and more pitiful, begging for the release of death. Felix told Harry to finish administering the potion and take the Horcrux, however, rather than to just give Dumbledore his wish now. 

When the potion was gone, its effects ceased. The Headmaster fell so still for a moment that Harry wondered if the potion had killed him after all. He put the horcrux in his pocket just as Dumbledore's eyes fluttered open. 

"Water," rasped the Headmaster. 

Harry only sat down next to where Dumbledore lay. 

"Water," he asked again, and Harry chuckled.

"I'll get you water, Headmaster. Or rather I think I'll get you to the water." Slowly, Harry rolled up his sleeves and revealed the Dark Mark. Blue eyes widened dramatically, but their owner seemed incapable of speech. "But first I want to tell you how we got here." Harry pinched the Headmaster's wand out of his hand when Dumbledore started to raise it. "No, sir. Now isn't the time. You're very weak, you know."

The old wizard closed his eyes, apparently resigned to that truth.

"It started when you told me the prophecy, sir. I didn't feel like my odds were very good against the Dark Lord, and I didn't appreciate being forced into fighting him. When I learned that disregarding a prophecy could break it, I knew I had to approach the Dark Lord. He agreed to break the prophecy, if I took his Mark. In exchange for my loyalty, he promised me the safety of Ron, Hermione, and Remus so long as they stay out of the way. We both made the Unbreakable Vow that day, sir." Harry paused to allow that truth to sink in. "Being a Death Eater has not been especially easy. I find myself turning to potions and other vices to cope with the blood on my hands. The poison that Ron drank was one I brewed with Draco. It was meant for you, but it was a spare dose. Did you drink your tea after that lesson? I worked so hard to fix it for you, it was disappointing when it didn't work.

"I felt the prophecy break, Dumbledore. Even with the chain of an Unbreakable Vow and the Dark Mark I have more free will than I ever have in my life. I can feel it in my soul. I chose this, Headmaster. And now, I'm choosing to fulfill my mission from the Dark Lord. Goodbye, Headmaster. I'll get you that water now."

Before the weakened wizard on the ground could process the danger he was in, Harry shoved him into the lake. Immediately, the hands of a horde of Inferi began to drag the Headmaster under the water. His body was so weakened by the ordeal of the potion that he could hardly struggle. Harry watched long enough to be sure that Dumbledore wouldn't be coming back to the surface, forcing himself to harden his heart against the atrocity he'd committed. He then took the Headmaster's wand with his own things and activated his emergency portkey to Malfoy Manor.

 

Narcissa met Harry in the entrance hall, having felt the portkey go off. "Are you well, Mr. Potter?"

"I'm uninjured, Mrs. Malfoy. Thank you for your concern, and for the portkey. It's just saved my life, I think." He then looked up at her, his eyes cold. "Albus Dumbledore wasn't so lucky."


	21. The Hogwarts Raid

Harry was brought before the Dark Lord to give a report. On his way to the study, he passed a group of Death Eaters congregating at the vanishing cabinet. It was time, then.

 

"My Lord," Harry said, bowing his head. "Dumbledore is dead - taken by your Inferi at the seaside cave where the horcrux was hidden." 

"You will give me a full report."

Harry took a deep breath. "My Lord, I have taken a dose of Felix Felicis, and the potion is telling me that I need to go back to the castle before the rest of the Death Eaters do. May I have permission to make my report after the raid?"

The Dark Lord did not look pleased by the request, but Harry could tell that he wanted his Death Eater to make the most of the liquid luck. "Very well. You will return here with the others when the raid ends. And Harry - your loyalties will be revealed tonight."

"Thank you, my Lord." Harry took the locket he'd retrieved from his cloak pocket. "This is what was in the cave. I felt like I needed to bring it to you. May I go now?"

"Dismissed."

 

Harry stepped out of the vanishing cabinet in the Room of Requirement, where Draco was sitting alone. The blonde stood up. "Are they coming?"

"Not yet. I need to go - liquid luck is telling me to go to Gryffindor Tower." 

Harry rushed off before Draco had a chance to respond - not that Draco's response would have changed his course. In Gryffindor tower, his friends were waiting in the Common Room. It was late, and Ron and Hermione were alone. 

"Did you get it? How did it go?"

Harry looked at Hermione sadly as she questioned him. "Dumbledore is dead."

"What? Mate, what happened?" That was Ron. Harry didn't like what he needed to do next, but it was the only way to keep his friends safe tonight.

"I'm sorry." Before they could respond to the seemingly out-of-place apology, Harry put both of his friends in a full body bind. "I killed him. I'm sorry to do this, but you need to stay in the tower tonight where you're safe. None of the Death Eaters can hurt you, as long as you stay out of the way. That was the deal I made with the Dark Lord." 

Harry went up the stairs to the boys' dorm, leaving his friends petrified on the floor. The other sixth years were still awake, so Harry hit each with the same spell. The Dark Lord would probably prefer them dead, but he hadn't ordered it and Harry wouldn't hurt his roommates until he had to. From his trunk, he withdrew his Death Eater mask and cloak. The petrified boys in the room were unable to react outwardly, but Harry imagined they felt shocked and betrayed as he put them on. He changed in the room for the first time all year, as there was no point in hiding his Dark Mark now.

Downstairs Harry cast one last sad glance to his two best friends, who he knew would be lost to him after tonight, and left again for the Room of Requirement. He met no one along the way, and arrived in the Room just as the vanishing cabinet door opened again.

Harry was very glad his friends were safely petrified when he saw the group the Dark Lord had sent. Bellatrix Lestrange was followed by Rodolphus and Rabastan, who were followed by Greyback. Antonin Dolohov, Amycus and Alecto Carrow, and Rowle came as well. Snape met them outside in the corridor, his face resigned to the events of the night.

 

Harry was allowed the honor of casting the Dark Mark over the castle as a congratulations for killing Dumbledore, and shot it up over the Astronomy Tower.

Students were sent to their dormitories and the school locked down as soon as word reached the teachers. It happened impressively quickly - Harry suspected that Snape sent the tip while the Death Eaters were still on their way in to make sure the students were safe. Several of the members of Harry's old DA escaped to fight, which pained him. The Order arrived not long after the Death Eaters, presumably summoned by McGonagall or Tonks. 

It was eleven Death Eaters against around twenty adults and five students. They were outnumbered, but the opposition was without their leader. Additionally, the Death Eater's spells were more ruthless and their combat skills potion-enhanced.

 

Carnage was the only word to describe the scene.

Greyback ripped into Bill Weasley with his nails and teeth, tearing him apart as savagely as if he were transformed. One of the Aurors who had been patrolling the school met the same fate, and didn't survive it. When Harry saw Remus, he stunned him before he could come to harm. Harry's deal didn't apply in combat. Two other Order members that Harry didn't know well found themselves disfigured, but alive, and one died. The Death Eaters made their way to the Headmaster's office, dueling several professors along the way. McGonagall was bound and taken prisoner, along with the Muggle Studies professor. Of the students, Ernie MacMillian was dead and Ginny had taken extensive cruciatus curse damage.

In the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore's newly animated portrait watched aghast as the Death Eaters, who had lost only one from their number, paraded in and removed their masks.

"Harry. I had hoped I was hallucinating from the potion. You really-"

"Yes, Headmaster. Everything I said to you in the cave was true. This was my choice."

"I see," said the Headmaster. "Severus?"

"I was taken by surprise by this decision from Mr. Potter, but once it happened I knew the Order had no chance. My choice was made for me."

"Enough talk," Bellatrix snapped. "Reinforcements will be coming soon, we need to get out of this place before it happens." 

Snape gathered several instruments and documents from Dumbledore's office - the purpose of their visit here - and Harry took the memories he'd been shown. "The Dark Lord will not want anyone else viewing these."

 

With that taken care of, the group of ten Death Eaters left the school. Enough of the opposition had been injured, killed, or captured by this point that they were able to leave undisturbed. Snape took Harry by side-along apparation, while Draco was grabbed by Bellatrix. A single turn, a squeeze, and they were at Malfoy Manor.


	22. The Aftermath

Harry was the first to see the Dark Lord when they returned, in order to give his delayed report. He told his Lord about the trip into the cave, the Headmaster drinking the potion, his own speech to the man before pushing him into the lake, and the desire to bring the locket to the Dark Lord.

"The horcrux you brought me from the cave was a fake - a poor replacement of Slytherin's locket with a note from the one who stole it - Regulus Black." Harry thought with a bit of humor that he was  _lucky_ he hadn't remained in the room after giving the locket to the Dark Lord. The man's wrath at finding out about this must have been terrible. "Summon your house elf."

"Yes, my Lord. Kreacher!" Kreacher appeared, mumbling filth under his breath. "Stop your cursing. Answer the Dark Lord's questions promptly

and honestly."

Kreacher spoke with narrowed eyes. "Yes, Master."

The Dark Lord held up the fake locket. "Have you seen this before?"

"Yes."

"Was it in the possession of Regulus Black when you saw it?"

"Yes."

"Did you or Regulus take the locket that this replaced?"

"Yes."

"Which?"

"...Me."

"Where is it?"

"The house."

"Go get it."

"That's not a question. Kreacher doesn't have to take orders from you. Only answer questions."

Harry sighed heavily. "Kreacher. Go get the locket and bring it here." The expected look of loathing didn't come. Instead, the withered old elf broke down sobbing. He was still crying when he came back with the locket in hand. "Give it to me, and stop crying." Kreacher's tears immediately ceased, but he still moaned continuously about failing his favorite Master's last order. "My Lord, do you need anything else from him or should I send him away?"

"He can go. I have my locket."

"Yes, my Lord. Kreacher, go home and stay there." The elf popped away without a break in its laments. 

"Do you have anything else to report, Harry?"

"I assume Snape is giving you the full report on Hogwarts, but I brought the memories from my sessions with Dumbledore. They were in his office. I doubt you would want anyone else to be able to view them."

"You assumed correctly. Give them to me." Harry removed the vials from his pocket and handed them to the Dark Lord. "You are dismissed."

"Yes, my Lord."

 

In the hallway, Harry passed by Snape. He nearly broke down when he did. Tonight was the first time Harry had killed without the effects of the Death Eaters' pre-raid potion or another illicit substance since his initiation. Killing the familiar and powerful Headmaster then going into combat against people he knew intimately was a very different feeling than casting a single well-placed curse on a random prisoner. The Felix Felicis Harry took had kept him focused on the moves he needed to make to maximize his luck, but now that it was wearing off Harry felt the full force of his emotional responses. 

There was another celebration that night, more gruesome and rowdy than any Harry had attended. He did not join in the cheer, but took up a residence by the drink table chugging glass after glass of Firewhiskey. Draco joined him, but noticed the haunted look on Harry's face and did not attempt any conversation.

Harry drank more that night than he ever had in one session before, and it wasn't enough to quiet his mind.


	23. The Uncertainty

Harry woke the day after the Hogwarts raid in a guest room at Malfoy Manor. His head pounded mercilessly, and he groaned when he realized he didn't have his potion cocktail - it was at the school, in his trunk. Following that groan was a wince, as the sound had hurt his head. Harry closed his eyes tightly, buried his head in his pillow, and tried to ignore the despair that he would usually chase away with a vial of Elixir to Induce Euphoria. Questions swirled through his mind, and the uncertainty was paralyzing.

 

Ron and Hermione knew now. They would be lost to him, along with the rest of his friends in Gryffindor or the DA. He wondered if any of them would demand an explanation. Would they report what they knew to the Ministry? Would their word turn him into a wanted criminal, or would the Minister ignore them and refuse to act?

Dumbledore was dead, and McGonagall was captured. Hogwarts was without a Head or a Deputy, so who would be organizing things now? Were the students still there, or had the school been evacuated after the raid? Who would be the Head in September? Would the school even open, now that it had been shown that Death Eaters could find a way in?

Harry didn't need to hide from the Dark Lord anymore, even in pretense. Would he be expected to go back to his relatives' house? Where else did he have to go? How long did he have to figure that out before the Malfoys wanted him to leave the manor?

Would Harry be able to get his things back from the school? His invisibility cloak, the Marauder's Map, his stock of potions and cigarettes, his new wardrobe - all of it was in danger if the other Gryffindors decided they felt vengeful. 

 

After nearly an hour of lying there, fighting with the urge to vomit and trying to ignore the pain in his head, Harry resolved himself to calling a house elf. The popping sound when the elf appeared nearly brought tears to Harry's eyes, and he desperately asked after a hangover potion. The elf left and returned, two more ear-splitting pops, and handing him a vial. In a single gulp, Harry had swallowed the potion without even opening his eyes to check that it was the correct one. Luckily it was, and the worst of Harry's symptoms eased immediately.

Finally, he sat up and steeled himself for the day. The uncertainty wouldn't go away if he stayed in bed.

 

Somehow, he hadn't missed breakfast. Harry ate even more gingerly than usual, his stomach still feeling unsteady. Draco and Mrs. Malfoy kindly ignored the fact that Harry's suffering was his own fault. He asked if there was any news. Apparently classes and exams at the school were cancelled for the rest of the year, but the Hogwarts Express would not run until a memorial service for Dumbledore was held. The fate of the school next year would be decided by the Board of Governors, who were due to meet next week.

When he asked about retrieving his things, Mrs. Malfoy pointed out that he could send his house elf for them. Harry felt a bit dim for not thinking of that, but blamed his sorry state. Within minutes Kreacher returned with Harry's possessions, all present and intact. Harry was honestly surprised, but figured the other Gryffindors had been in such a state of shock that no one had gotten to the point of anger yet. 

Harry was not wanted as a criminal, since there was no real proof to present to the Ministry. Harry had been masked when he committed his crimes. If word of mouth got people tried as Death Eaters, the Dark Lord would have a much harder time building his army. Not being wanted, however, didn't mean there weren't rumors in the press.  _The Daily Prophet_ had already run an article calling Harry the Boy-Who-Defected and speculating on what evil could have been hidden in his actions at school, and Harry would likely have a hard time going out in public without being harassed. 

Mrs. Malfoy told Harry he could stay as long as he needed. Harry decided he would never go back to the Dursleys unless it was to kill them, and would stay at Malfoy Manor until he was seventeen then buy himself a modest house. 

 

Harry found himself by the end of the day with most of his questions answered. The only uncertainty left was his friends - ex-friends? He regretted, only slightly, that they hadn't been able to reply to him when he said his apologies. It ate at him. As if the Fates were taking pity on Harry, Hedwig arrived with a letter just before bed that night. He petted her chest absently as he stared at Hermione's handwriting, dread filling his mind. When he opened it, the note was incredibly short.

 

_Harry James Potter,_

_We deserve an explanation._

_HJG_


	24. The Explanation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may be a bit repetitive since the reader has been able to see into Harry's mind all along and saw Harry's explanation to Dumbledore, but I feel like I need to include it. I guess what I'm saying is that I realize this will be very little new information, but bear with me.

Harry stared at the parchment in his lap, supported by one of his text books to write on. He was surrounded by crumpled rejects that he hadn't taken the time to vanish yet, but he was finally as happy with the letter to his friends as he could be.

 

_Hermione and Ron,_

_You are right. You deserve an explanation. The two of you were my first friends and, as empty as it probably sounds from me right now, I love the both of you. I can't have this information becoming public, however. To that end, this letter is heavily charmed. Only the two of you can read it - anyone else will see only blank parchment. If you try to discuss its contents with anyone, you'll find yourselves the victim of a tongue-tying curse. If anyone but the two of you touches this letter or casts any magic on it, it will burn immediately. So, with that warning, I'll do my best to explain myself. Please read to the end._

_I never fully had free will until I joined the Dark Lord. Before I was born, a prophecy was made that declared I could defeat him. "Either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives" was what it said. The prophecy could have meant Neville just as easily, but it ended up being me. Dumbledore had no intentions of training me, as he believed that all I needed to defeat the Dark Lord was the ability to love. The Dark Lord is older than me, and smarter, and more skilled. That's objective fact. I can't say if he's really never known love, but I know that the fact that I have wouldn't have kept him from killing me eventually. If I followed Dumbledore and the prophecy, my death was certain. And with my death, the Dark Lord would win the war._ _Admittedly, the Dark Lord will likely win the war because I have joined him. But I am alive for it, and hopefully the war will be shorter and less bloody for it too._

_The prophecy is broken. I researched it myself and found out that a prophecy could be broken if everyone involved in it chose to disregard it, and that is why I decided to meet the Dark Lord. I knew there was every chance he would kill me when I did, but I was so desperate to break the prophecy that I was willing to take that chance._

_The Dark Lord and I both took the Unbreakable Vow - to disregard the prophecy and never to attempt to kill each other by action or inaction. For my Vow, I've also sworn never to betray the Dark Lord. He swore never to attack three people of my choosing, so long as they weren't on the battlefield. I chose the two of you and Remus. As long as you don't fight him, you are safe. That's why I petrified you both in the tower._

_He Marked me the same night I took the Vow. I killed someone that night, too. All summer, I was sneaking away at night to go on raids and attend meetings with the Dark Lord. Remus caught me coming back once, and I had to wipe his memory of it. The things the Dark Lord has asked me to do have been awful, I won't pretend they haven't._

_But I have choices now, even if it is a choice between two terrible things. Before breaking the prophecy, that was something I couldn't say. I don't expect you to forgive me, or even to understand my choice. You've never felt the weight of a prophecy on your shoulders - and I didn't know that I had until it lifted. I mean that literally. A choice is all I wanted, and I found a way to get that._

_I'm sorry that gaining a choice is losing me the two of you. That's what my apology meant in the tower. I've known since I took the Mark that I'd lose the two of you forever when you found out, and it's made the last year very bittersweet._

_I'll miss you both horribly and the things I'm asked to do hurt me, but I can't bring myself to regret my choice. Please don't ask me to._

_I love you both, and I'm sorry._

_HJP_

 

Hedwig carried the letter, addressed to both of his friends, into the night. It was past midnight, as Harry knew he couldn't sleep without answering Hermione's note. He lit a cigarette, and tried not to think about it too hard. His life was changing, and it was only natural for him to have some growing pains as it did.


	25. The Beginning of Summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized I forgot to mention the Azkaban breakout in the spring. Don't worry - it happened. We'll just say Harry was too busy plotting to read the paper or talk to his friends about it.

Hedwig returned early the next morning without a reply from Ron or Hermione, which didn't surprise Harry. He sighed heavily, then took a dose of his euphoria potion and lit a cigarette. He was starting to feel twitchy when he went too long without one. He recognized that that was a problem, but didn't have the energy to care about it. When Harry's brain had the chemicals it craved, he bathed and dressed for the day.

 

This became his routine for several slow days at the Manor, until Harry was summoned to a meeting with the Dark Lord. At first, he thought he was one of the first to arrive. When the Dark Lord came in, he fell to his knees and realized he was one of the last. This was an Inner Circle meeting.

"Rise, Harry. There is no need to kneel at these - smaller meetings."

"Yes, my Lord," Harry said in slight awe. Everyone was unmasked, including Harry. Somehow, the call had told Harry that it wasn't necessary. There were seventeen Death Eaters there besides himself. Absently, Harry noticed that Draco was not among them - this must be his reward for killing Dumbledore.

The Inner Circle meeting was less formal, less intimidating, than any other Harry had attended. The Dark Lord's most trusted told him of the progress they had made with their missions. The Ministry of Magic was being infiltrated by Death Eaters, and a list of high ranking Ministry officials were being placed under the imperius curse. The Dark Lord was especially pleased to hear that the head of the DMLE, Pius Thicknesse, was under their control. A plan was created to assassinate Scrimegour, and with his death Thicknesse would be the first to replace him as Minister under Wartime protocols. 

 

Harry attended two more Inner Circle meetings and one full meeting before his birthday. It didn't entirely make sense to Harry why these meetings happened so often when no one had anything new to say, or why he was always included when he wasn't actively doing anything in the Ministry, but he kept his mouth closed on these things.

 

Between meetings, Harry looked at houses. It was a bit difficult finding a real estate agent who would meet with him given all of the awful, and admittedly true, things that the press was saying about him. Nevertheless, he eventually succeeded and was able to find a modest two bedroom house in an all-magical neighborhood in London. The entrance to Diagon Alley was within easy walking distance, if he ever found himself so inclined. Of course, Harry couldn't actually buy the house until he was legally an adult, but the agent was willing to hold the paperwork for him for the six days that remained before his birthday.

 

On Harry's birthday, the Malfoy elves were instructed to make Harry's favorite foods for breakfast. Harry was touched - he hadn't thought anyone in the household actually cared about him, rather than just tolerating his presence because he had the Dark Lord's favor. After breakfast, Harry was free to do what he liked.

Harry went to the Ministry of Magic twice on his birthday. First, to take his apparation test and buy the house. He made sure to take his registered wand for that - it was needed as identification. His second trip to the Ministry that day was to take over.


	26. The Ministry Raid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexual content while under the influence of alcohol and potions in this chapter.

Harry was grateful when he was handed a vial of potion. He wasn't sure how a potion that created heightened awareness and reactions dulled the guilt of killing so well, but he wasn't going to complain. The guilt he'd felt after killing Dumbledore without this potion had been awful - he'd gotten through it only by increasing his doses of Elixir to Induce Euphoria. 

 

They took the visitor's entrance into the Ministry, which Harry would have thought was hilarious in an unmedicated state. When prompted for the purpose for their visit, Bellatrix cackled that they were there to "put wittle baby Scrimegour to bed". Harry silently pinned the badge that read "Babysitting" to his robes as the telephone box descended into the ground. 

When nearly thirty Death Eaters came out of the magically expanded lift, the wizard at the security desk fainted. The fact that he hadn't been able to call for security beforehand made their entrance into the Ministry Atrium easy. 

 

The Ministry fell quickly. It was after-hours, so most of the Auror department was gone for the day. As the Death Eaters moved through the halls towards the Minister's office, those who were sympathetic to the cause or under the imperius curse joined them and their ranks swelled rapidly. Those who didn't join them or run away fell quickly. According to the plan, Thicknesse did not join them and was stunned. Several others were also dealt non-lethal curses to avoid suspicion. If Thicknesse was to be appointed Minister after this, the others in the Wizarding World needed to believe he was against the Dark Lord. At least, they needed to believe that until it was too late.

Harry cursed as viciously as any other Death Eater, thanks to the potion and his growing desensitization to violence. Every third enemy he encountered was left alive, either stunned or bound. His veins were singing with the rush of Dark magic - he hadn't cast this many curses since Christmas. The power gave him such a rush that he laughed out loud, reminding himself of Bellatrix. 

When they reached the Minister's office, a contingent of on-call Aurors had arrived and were guarding the door. They were hopelessly outnumbered at this point, however, and fell quickly. Most of them died to killing curses, rather than something more gruesome, as the Death Eaters didn't want to give them a chance to block. Cornered and packed in tightly at the office door, they couldn't properly dodge.

In his office, Scrimegour was cowering in fear. Harry wondered briefly why the man hadn't tried to Floo out, but wasn't going to complain about it. Rookwood cast a full-body bind on the Minister. The fallen up to this point had died quickly, the Death Eaters not slowing their march to their destination. The Minister would suffer, no one left here to defend him. Travers and MacNair guarded the door and Yaxley cast a ward over the Floo, in case any further waves of Aurors had been summoned. Harry, the Lestranges, and Lucius Malfoy proceeded to cast curse after curse on Scrimegour. The cruciatus curse was broken by instances of cutting curses, blasting curses, curses that caused tissue death, boil curses, burning curses, and several other gruesome tortures that Harry didn't recognize - likely Bellatrix's work. The killing curse would have been a mercy at this point, but they simply watched as the Minister of Magic bled out on the floor of his office. When his death was confirmed, someone cast the Dark Mark and the Death Eaters retreated.

 

Harry didn't feel the crippling guilt of killing tonight as he had after the Hogwarts raid, but found himself getting just as drunk when they returned to the Manor. A full meeting had been called to announce their success, and it seemed most of the Death Eaters had remained to celebrate. Instead of the smaller rooms they typically used, they were in the Malfoy's ballroom. 

When Harry was well and truly gone, he felt a warm body at his back. He was startled to hear Bellatrix's voice in his ear, an odd quality to it. "Wittle baby Potter's not so little anymore. I was impressed with you tonight."

"Er- thanks," was all Harry could manage to say. What was she after?

"Come with me, Harry. You deserve a reward."

Harry nodded, and she took his hand and apparated him away.

 

Harry found himself in an unfamiliar bedroom - likely at Lestrange Manor. Bellatrix handed him a potion, and he drank it without a question. His whole body was flooded with warmth, and where she still gripped his hand tingled in a decidedly pleasant way. It almost reminded him of the rush of Dark magic.

"Feel good?"

"Yeah. What-"

"Just a little something to make your reward even better. Have you been with a woman before?" Harry shook his head silently, a blush creeping to his cheeks. Bellatrix laughed, slightly less insanely than when she fought but still definitely her, and traced her fingers up Harry's arm. He shivered as the tingling sensation followed her fingers. "I wasn't sure you had any innocence left. Shall we fix that?"

Harry fought through the haze in his mind brought on by alcohol and multiple potions - he wanted to comprehend what was happening. "Your husband-"

"Is likely bringing someone home tonight as well. We have an arrangement. Don't worry about Rodolphus, Harry." Harry nodded again and, no further objections fighting their way through his addled mind, gave in to the desire building in him.

Bellatrix was a sadist, but also incredibly attentive. She undressed him slowly, not bothering to take off her own clothes. Each brush of skin made Harry's breath hitch, and she examined him with an obvious hunger for a moment before going to work. Harsh scratches down his back with her nails ended then a gentle caress of his bum. She continued alternating pain with gentler touches for quite some time, and Harry found himself harder than he'd imagined he could be. He probably wouldn't have enjoyed the pain under normal circumstances, but the potion Bellatrix had given him made every touch to his skin shoot directly to his groin. The moment Bellatrix touched Harry's prick, following almost ten minutes of this slow torture, he came. His cheeks flooded with heat, but Bellatrix didn't comment. 

Her touches resumed, and Harry found himself hard again in less than a minute. Bellatrix brought him off twice more before undressing herself and encouraging him to touch her. When she settled him on the bed and straddled over him, he'd come and re-hardened for a fourth time. Each time, he lasted longer. He realized she was building up his stamina when she slid down onto him and he was barely able to restrain himself from immediately coming again. Bellatrix scratched his chest as she rode him, leaving angry red marks and pleasant sensations in her wake. He still lasted only a couple of minutes, but his torturer was unconcerned.

When Bellatrix finally tired, Harry had lost count of his orgasms and was floating on a constant flow of endorphins. She collapsed next to him, and was immediately asleep. Harry, unable to move his spent muscles, quickly followed.

Harry's last thought before sleep claimed him was that it was his first night as a homeowner and he was spending it away.


	27. The Reforms

Harry apparated to his new house immediately upon waking the next day, before Bellatrix thank Merlin. His memories of the night before were hazy, but present. He picked up the copy of the Daily Prophet that had been delivered that morning from his kitchen table.

The first headline was  _ **Thicknesse Declared Minister, Enacts Martial Law**_. He skimmed the article and saw that a nine p.m. curfew was being put in place for all citizens not a part of law enforcement, Aurors had the right to stop anyone behaving suspiciously at any time, justice would be carried out through expedited means, group meetings were discouraged, and best of all the Ministry was taking over the running of Hogwarts. Harry smiled bitterly, knowing that these new laws would be enforced less harshly for Death Eaters.

Harry still felt conflicted sometimes. Oddly, he felt the most conflicted when things were going well for him as a result of the choice he'd made. Harry had been willing to make this choice, but he often felt like the universe should be punishing him for it. He lit a cigarette, even though he wasn't particularly craving one. The burning of the smoke made him feel better about the whole situation somehow.

 

Within the week, the Minister's office had announced that a mandatory Muggle-born registry was being created, and a Commission put into place to ensure that it was fully enacted. On the surface, the registration was to protect Muggle-borns and their families. By knowing the names, addresses, and living family members of all muggle-born mages, the DMLE would be able to respond to threats to them more quickly. Of course, Harry knew that the registration was compiling a list of potential targets for the Death Eaters. The Order probably knew it, too. A few citizens of magical Britain worried about this registration falling into the wrong hands. However, few knew that it was already there.

Harry scowled furiously to himself when he noted in the paper that the head of the Muggle-born Registration Commission was going to be Umbridge. He still had the scar on his hand -  _I must not tell lies_ \- from her detentions. He'd only been fifteen, and downright innocent compared to now, when he and his friends had led her to the Centaurs and let them have her. If that toad ever met him alone as he was now, the Commission would be needing a new head. 

 

Next, Snape was appointed Headmaster at Hogwarts. The Dark Lord revealed at an Inner Circle meeting that Snape was to choose Harry as the Head Boy alongside a Head Girl sympathetic to the cause. The curriculum would be changed as well. Muggle Studies would be a mandatory class - with a few twists from how it was previously taught - and Defense Against the Dark Arts was being changed to just Dark Arts. Harry was actually looking forward to that change. The Dark Arts were fascinating, and highly enjoyable when you were on the right end of the wand. 

A multitude of positions at the school needed to be filled. McGonagall was still in the Manor's dungeons. The Muggle Studies professor had been fed to Nagini. Binns would never be convinced to change his lectures to something the Dark Lord would approve, and would therefore need to be exorcised. Other professors may also refuse to come back once they were alerted to the changes that were being made.

The Carrows were jointly given the Deputy Head position. Alecto would teach Muggle Studies and Amycus would teach Dark Arts. Sebastian Selwyn would be teaching Transfiguration in McGonagall's place, and Madame Hooch would take the role of Head of Gryffindor as long as she remained at the school. If Hooch did quit, Snape would have to hire Wormtail to take that position as the only Gryffindor Death Eater who didn't already have an important job elsewhere. Dark Gryffindors, while not unheard of, were rare enough that they couldn't risk hiring new staff outside of the Dark Lord's Marked ranks. Head of Slytherin would be Slughorn, and the new History of Magic professor would be Evan Rosier. Staff taken care of, Snape chose Pansy Parkinson as Head Girl.

Muggle-borns were barred from attendance as well. Like the Registration, this was framed as something to protect them. At the school, Muggle-born mages would be surrounded by Purebloods and others who may support the Dark Lord. Surely, the Minister said, it would be better for them to stay out of the general wizarding public until the current political climate was resolved.

 

The  _Daily Prophet_ , under the control of the Ministry and therefore the Dark Lord, gave each reform the new Ministry made a positive spin. Liberties given up in favor of protection and strict regulation to maintain order. Students taught about the Dark Arts so that they could recognize them, History of Magic revitalized, and Muggle Studies promoting understanding in the absence of students with practical experience in the Muggle world. Harry wondered if most of the Wizarding World knew enough about Muggle history to recognize the actions of people like Hitler or Stalin if the Dark Lord decided to copy them.


	28. The Initiations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've posted three short companion pieces to this story - Hermione's Choice, Remus' Choice, and Ron's Choice - detailing the reactions of the three people Harry chose to protect to the reveal of Harry's choice and the fall of the Ministry. If you are interested in reading them, I recommend doing it before reading this chapter as this will spoil some of the happenings in those.

Just before it was time to go back to school, a full meeting was called at ten p.m. Harry apparated from his house to Malfoy Manor in his cloak and mask and stood at the front of the room with the rest of the Inner Circle. When the Dark Lord entered, he dropped to one knee as was expected of the most trusted and valued members of the Dark Lord's army.

"Rise," he said to them. "Since our successful takeover of the Ministry of Magic, many have seen fit to join us. Some of my most trusted have spoken with each potential new Death Eater to determine their sincerity, and tonight we initiate those who passed." Harry wondered if the interviews, for lack of a better term, had been assigned to some of the Inner Circle and he'd been passed over or if the new recruits had simply approached well-known Death Eaters. While he was musing over this, a long line of people entered the room. Harry blandly noticed that most of the Slytherins and a couple of Ravenclaws in his year were present, and a few students from the year below him. He couldn't restrain a quiet gasp when he saw Remus come into the room at the end of the line. Remus' eyes flicked to him, his hearing sharp enough to pick up on the sound, and a look of determination came over his face.  _He's doing this for me._

Harry wondered if Remus knew what he'd have to do tonight. No one had warned him that a kill was a part of the initiation process, after all, but it hadn't exactly been a surprise. One by one, prisoners were brought before the congregated Death Eaters and the initiates killed them. Some hesitated, and some were decisive. Some used the killing curse while others used something less intense and a select few killed their prisoner in creative and sadistic ways. After each kill, the Dark Lord gave a new recruit the mark of the skull and snake. Each of them reacted to the pain in some way - a flinch, a groan, a grimace - and Harry was reminded of the reasons he'd found it so bearable. He pushed the thought out of his mind as Remus stepped up.

Remus' face was impassive. Harry assumed it was years of controlling himself so tightly to avoid his wolf's instincts that made it possible for him to hide the things he felt right now. When he cast a silent cutting curse on the bound man in front of him, his expression tightened slightly. When he knelt to take the Mark, he didn't react. Harry supposed that the burning was less painful than a full moon.

 

Each new Death Eater now marked, the Dark Lord dismissed everyone but the new recruits and the Inner Circle. The speech the Dark Lord gave about how the Mark would work was nearly identical to the one Harry had received just over a year ago. No one needed to be taken for unregistered wands now, with the Ministry under the Dark Lord's control, but the sixth years present were given Portkeys like Harry and Draco had used. As soon as the Dark Lord left, Harry pulled Remus into a hug. He didn't bother removing his mask first, knowing the werewolf would have recognized him by scent by now.

"Why would you do this?" he whispered.

"You're my cub, Harry. I'd do anything to be here for you."

Harry squeezed his surrogate godfather a little tighter before letting go and removing his mask. The two walked out of the ballroom together, silent for the moment. Harry could see the pain Remus was concealing in his gait now that they were side by side. "Are you okay, Remus?"

"The last couple of moons have been tough. I think they'll be getting better now."

Harry smiled, and then a thought hit him. "Where have you been living? You used to live at Headquarters."

Remus grimaced then. "The new Headquarters. I haven't signed up to spy on the Order - not that they're achieving much to spy on - so I'll need to find somewhere else to go."

"Come live with me."

"Are you at Grimmauld Place?"

Harry shook his head. "No. I haven't even been there this summer. That does remind me that I should remove the Fidelius from it, or at least reset it so that I'm the Secret Keeper. I bought a house! I have a spare bedroom. It doesn't have to be forever if you'd prefer to look for your own place, but you could stay as long as you like."

Remus smiled tiredly. "We can see how it goes, and I'll decide if I need to move out."

"Brilliant. I'll side-along you tonight since you've never been there before. Plus you look exhausted." They'd reached the entrance hall of the Manor by now, and Remus allowed Harry to take his arm without comment. A squeeze later, the two were on Harry's front lawn. 

 

Inside, they didn't go to bed just yet. Remus seated himself at the kitchen table while Harry made some herbal tea.

"When you were initiated, did you have to-" Remus' voice faltered

"Kill someone? Yeah." Harry's matter-of-fact tone held a hint of pain, and he put a bottle of firewhiskey on the table with the tea after adding a splash to his own cup. "I used a blasting curse on her head. Cutting was a lot less messy, I wish I'd thought of that. I was a bit- off. But my initiation went pretty much the same as yours, except that it was only me and Draco and I stayed overnight at the Manor afterwards."

Remus chuckled humorlessly, and added some of the alcohol to his own tea. "And you've had to again since then?"

"You mean besides Dumbledore?" Harry said with a flinch. "Yeah. Pretty frequently, actually. There's a potion that we take before raids though, and while it's definitely not the best coping mechanism it does help."

"You've been on your own for all of this. I'm sorry, Harry. I could have been there for you if I saw how much you were hurting."

Harry shook his head vehemently. "It was right after Sirius died, Remus. You were hurting too."

"Not to mention you obliviated me. I should be mad at you for that, but I'm not."

"How do you know about that?"

"Hermione managed to remove the charm from your letter that made it appear blank. The whole Order saw what you wrote."

"I should have anticipated that," Harry said with a grimace. He paused. "Are they safe? Are they using the protection I got them?"

"Hermione moved to America with her parents the day the Ministry fell and is finishing her schooling at Ilvermorny. Ron is staying with his family, but I think I convinced him to stick to planning instead of fighting."

Harry nodded once, the lump in his throat too tight to speak. He itched for a cigarette, but hesitated to smoke in front of the closest thing to a parent he had left. Then he realized that Remus could definitely smell the smoke on him, and fished out his pack. "Another thing I should be mad about," was Remus' only reply. 

"I can't say I have the best coping mechanisms. No one ever taught me how to deal with my feelings properly. And while I refuse to regret the choice I made, that doesn't mean it's easy for me."

Remus looked like he understood all to well. The pair spent another twenty minutes sitting at the table in silence, going through more firewhiskey than tea, before Harry showed Remus to the spare bedroom and the bathroom and they retired for the night.


	29. The Return to Hogwarts

The Dark Lord decided to make Remus Head of Gryffindor. Even a newly marked Death Eater was a step up for him from a Gryffindor who wasn't his, and Wormtail was useless, so Remus was given word that he'd be replacing Madame Hooch the day after his initiation. Harry was glad to hear it - now that he had Remus on his side he wanted to keep him close. Harry insisted that Remus let him pay for a new wardrobe for him. The uniforms for Hogwarts had been changed so that the sleeves ended at the elbow - to display who was or wasn't Marked - and Harry knew that Remus couldn't afford the new teaching robes.

"If you feel like you have to, you can pay me back once you're earning money. The Head's salary is probably better than the Defense position was. But it's really not necessary, Remus."

"I will, then. You shouldn't have to buy my clothes, Harry."

Harry shrugged as he put on his boots and grabbed his money pouch. "We'll have to go to Twilfit and Tattings. Madame Malkin doesn't take well to Marked customers, and it's common knowledge by now that I'm Marked even if no one can actually prove it." Harry's voice was casual as he spoke, without the hint of shame or resentment he'd carried last night. Madame Malkin was never someone he cared about - her rejection meant nothing to him. The newspapers hadn't bothered him much either. New insults, old routines.  _Maybe,_ Harry thought,  _I'd have been more willing to sacrifice my free will and my life for the wizarding world if they ever gave a damn about me._

 

 

Harry changed into his school robes, Mark exposed, and pinned the Head Boy's badge to his chest immediately after boarding the Hogwarts Express. No sense in putting off the inevitable. In the Prefects compartment he met Parkinson, who had made the same choice. 

Gryffindor had no seventh-year prefects, as Ron and Hermione were both gone. Daphne Greengrass came in with Malfoy, having taking over Parkinson's badge with her promotion. Anthony Goldstein, Padma Patil, Ernie Macmillian, and Hannnah Abbot had all returned. There were a couple of holes in the sixth year as well, where the prefects had either been Muggle-born or fled the country. The new fifth year prefects were predominately from Dark families - even though the Heads of House nominated prefects, _Headmaster_ Snape had the final say and had ensured that as much of the school's leadership as possible was at a minimum sympathetic to the Dark Lord. When everyone who was coming had arrived, Harry spoke first.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts. Some things will be different this year, and some will remain the same. As always, you are expected to be leaders in the school. Prefects have the power to take and award points from anyone who isn't also a prefect or head. New this year, everyone needs to watch their step. Direct disrespect to the Dark Lord is now a punishable offense at Hogwarts, and most of our new professors will use more varied methods of punishment than you're used to. Make sure your housemates, especially the younger ones, understand that."

"Prefect positions that are currently empty due to non-returners will be filled by your Head of House before the end of the week," Parkinson continued. "Each of you will have just one shift of patrol duty per week, while Potter and I take two. The patrol schedule will be rotated monthly and posted in the Prefects' meeting room. If you cannot keep your scheduled patrol, it is your duty to find someone who will trade with you and to notify Potter or myself. Prefect meetings will occur biweekly on Sunday nights, and are mandatory. If anyone is found to be abusing their power as prefect, or failing to enforce the rules as is their duty, they will be at risk of losing their badge."

"Are there any questions?" Harry asked. No one spoke up. "Alright. Each of you is expected to spend at least an hour patrolling during the train ride, but please stagger those patrols so that someone is always out and about rather than everyone patrolling the first hour. Dismissed."

 

Harry and Parkinson had agreed that he would patrol the first hour and she'd patrol the last, and they both would hope that the rest of the prefects took the instruction to stagger their patrols seriously enough that the middle would be filled in. The environment as he moved up and down the aisles was tense. Everyone looked at Harry with either fear, hostility, or awe. It was nothing he wasn't accustomed to, but it seemed to hit him harder now that it was because of something he'd chosen to do rather than something that happened when he was a baby or something he was falsely accused of. Even the angriest among them, however, didn't seem willing to pick a fight with their Death Eater Head Boy before even arriving to school. When his hour was up, Harry joined Draco's compartment. Parkinson and Zabini were there with the blonde, and both nodded to him when he entered. Harry found himself able to relax now that he was away from the eyes of the school, and he offered his pack of cigarettes around while lighting his own. 

 

When Harry walked into the Great Hall and saw the collection at the Head Table, his insides did odd things. His heart twisted violently that Dumbledore wasn't there -  _my fault_ \- and some butterflies found their way into his stomach at the sight of so many Death Eaters inside Hogwarts -  _the youngest students_ \- but he still managed to be warmed by Remus' presence -  _I'm not alone._ He took a seat at the Gryffindor table, his classmates giving him a wide berth that reminded him all too much of when he was thought to be the Heir of Slytherin or when everyone thought he'd entered himself into the Triwizard Tournament.  _I chose this,_ he reminded himself. He looked for the people he'd used to call friends. Neville and Seamus would have the dorm room to themselves this year - Dean was gone, though Harry wasn't sure why. His mother was a witch. Most of the members of the DA were back, including Ginny but not Ron. The defiance in their eyes frightened Harry, not because he thought they would damage to the Dark Lord's control over the school but because he thought they'd be willing to put themselves in harm's way trying. It made him wish he hadn't let Hermione convince him to start the club in the first place. Most of the DA's members had been timid at the start, they wouldn't have fought if he didn't train them.

There were only twenty-two first years to sort, as opposed to the forty-odd that most years had. The largest number went to Slytherin - nine - followed by six Gryffindors and five Ravenclaws. Hufflepuff had only two new members this year. Harry supposed it made sense. Traditionally Slytherin families were generally safe in the new world that was being built, so they would have no qualms sending their children to Hogwarts this year. The brave Gryffindors wouldn't let anything stop them from attending, and Ravenclaws would prize their education enough for it to be worth the risk. Hufflepuff loyalty would only bring students to school this year if they had someone inside to be loyal to. Harry was fairly certain that both new Hufflepuffs' names sounded familiar, like they had an older sibling at school. Granted it was the parents' decisions and not the kids' whether they came, but at eleven years old most kids are little more than a reflection of their family. 

Snape as Headmaster didn't seem to share Dumbledore's sentiments that speeches come after the feast. He stood, the look on his face silencing the hall immediately. "There will be changes this year to how this school is run," he said without a word of welcome. "Old punishments are being brought back, as maintaining order is a top priority. Mail in and out of the school will be monitored. Disrespect to the Dark Lord is a punishable offense, as are all forms of pranking. Curfew will be  _strictly_ enforced. Muggle Studies and History of magic are now required classes for all years. Now, I shall introduce our new staff."

Six of the seventeen adults at the head table, all of the new faces plus Snape, bared a Dark Mark for all to see. Harry tuned out the announcement of names, having been at the meeting where they were decided, and watched the faces of his classmates instead. Anger and fear were common. A few looked resigned, and Harry hated that they'd have the easiest time this year. Luna's expression was no less dreamy than usual to someone who didn't know her, but something glinted in her eyes that suggested she wouldn't go quietly.

When each of the new professors had been introduced, the food appeared and the feast began. The upper years were quiet, many missing their friends or worrying about the year to come. The younger students were less affected, and chatted happily for the most part. When the feast ended and the fifth year prefects were leading the first years away, Harry retreated to his room.

 

The Head boy and Girl shared a suite on the ground floor of the castle, where they could be accessible to students from any house. They each had their own bedrooms with a desk to study and a private bathroom, and there was a small sitting room with a fireplace between them. The fireplace could be used to floo anywhere within Hogwarts. Harry was grateful that he wouldn't have to live with his old roommates, as few of them as there were, given what he'd done the last time he saw any of them. He'd be smothered in his sleep, likely. Or burned. Seamus had always had a penchant for fire.

Parkinson regarded Harry with a respect she'd never had for him before. A glance at the new Dark Mark on her arm, and he realized it was because of his status as Inner Circle. They didn't talk that first night, and Harry had a cigarette before going to sleep.


	30. The First Day

To say that the first day of Harry's seventh year was hell would be putting it lightly. At breakfast, he found himself grateful yet again that he had his own room. Neville wouldn't look twice at Harry, much of the timidity he'd shown in their younger years coming back for the moment. Seamus had no such issues, and was glaring daggers at him from several seats away. The girls in his year that he'd never paid much attention to ignored him altogether. In the year below, Ginny was staring at him with more hurt than anger and Colin Creevy seemed torn between confusion and hero worship. 

 

On the way to their first class of the day - Muggle Studies - Seamus' aggression came to a peak and the hot-head hit Harry in the back with a hex that made pus leak from his nose. It was nothing like a  _crucio_ and Harry could have just countered it and brushed it off, but he knew this would only escalate if he didn't shut it down. Further, he knew that as Head Boy, Snape and the Dark Lord expected him to deal with dissenters. He whirled to face his attacker and immediately used a sticking spell to root him in place. Once Seamus couldn't escape, Harry hit him with a Darker hex that caused the head to swell uncontrollably. Not fatal, but painful. 

"Detention, Seamus. Professor Lupin will get the details to you as our Head of House."

"Death Eater bastard," the Irish wizard mumbled.

Harry took a step closer to his former roommate. "You want me to show you what a Death Eater bastard can do, then keep talking." Seamus didn't have any more words for him, but spat in his face. " _Crucio_."

Harry held the torture curse for just a few seconds, watching with his face impassive as Seamus dropped to his knees. His ankles were at an odd angle with his feet still glued to the floor, and he struggled to hold up his very large head. When Harry ended the curse, he cancelled the other hexes as well. "Professor Lupin will give you the details of your detention," he said again before walking the rest of the way to class.

Professor Carrow accepted Harry's excuse that he was dealing with a situation in the hallway unbothered. Seamus earned a second detention with her for his lateness, which he answered with a hateful glare but held his tongue. The Death Eater reveled in her new role as a professor, lecturing for the full hour on the barbarism of Muggles and how the natural order of things was now being restored with the Magical world coming out on top. Harry tuned out the propaganda. As an Inner Circle Death Eater, he knew Alecto would pass him and it wasn't as if he needed a NEWT in the subject. When a half-blood Ravenclaw dared to speak against her, the girl spent significantly longer under the cruciatus curse than Seamus had in the hallway. 

 

After lunch, Harry was approached in the Great Hall by a Ravenclaw girl that he was fairly sure was a sixth year. "Potter," she said civilly. "My name is Morag MacDougal." Harry nodded and shook her offered hand. He was fairly certain there was at least one MacDougal in the Dark Lord's ranks. "My family has always been Dark, though we stayed on the sidelines in the last war. My parents are the type to see who will come out on top before publicly making a choice."

"Is that what you're doing now?"

The girl smirked. "If it is?"

"Then I'd say you're making the safest choice approaching me."

MacDougal nodded decisively and walked away, leaving Harry deep in thought. Obviously there was a lot to be gained at this point by getting on his good side. Word of how he'd punished Seamus spread quickly, and several people were more wary of him now. With the Dark Lord winning the war, and him in a place of power in the school, he wasn't lying when he said approaching him with civility was the safest choice MacDougal could have made. He still hesitated to say it was the right choice, however. It was  _his_ choice to join the Dark Lord, but others needed to weigh their options and decide for themselves.

 

The rest of the day was uneventful enough. No one else attacked Harry, or tried to ally with him. After dinner, he found his way to Remus' office for a chat. When he pulled out his cigarettes, he was surprised that Remus asked for one.

"I grew up in the seventies, Harry. Everyone smoked. I haven't for awhile, but it's been a stressful day." Harry nodded his agreement. "What did you want to talk about?"

"It's gotten so easy for me to curse people," Harry said. Remus knew about Seamus, so he didn't need to explain what he meant. "Have I always been this aggressive?"

Remus thought for a few moments. "As long as I've known you, you have had a quick temper. I seem to recall a spectacular fit in your third year, after you found out that Sirius-" Remus' voice hitched slightly "was your godfather. And I'd have hated to be Bellatrix after she killed him."

"I couldn't cast the cruciatus curse on her, though, and killing Sirius was a lot worse than spitting on me."

"That's true. And it's possible that you've gotten used to being violent." Remus looked uncomfortable with the idea, but like he was trying to stay supportive. "But when you tried to curse Bellatrix you'd never cast an unforgivable before. When you learned them, how did you do it?"

Harry thought back to right after he'd gotten his new wand. "I practiced on rats. I had to think about how angry I was about Sirius, but I also had to be more focused than I was at the Ministry."

"Exactly. It's emotional casting, just like when I taught you the patronus. You don't have to spend much time focusing on your happy memories to cast that spell anymore, do you?"

He hadn't cast his patronus in awhile. Instead of answering he picked up his wand and spoke, " _Expecto Patronum._ " The silver burst forth from his wand immediately, settling into a much smaller shape than Harry expected. "A raven?"

"It isn't surprising that it's changed, with all that you have. Ravens are scavengers, they use the death and destruction caused by others to help themselves. But-" Remus cut off, seeming to remember where he'd been going with this, "it was easy to cast, yes?"

Harry nodded.

"The patronus charm and the unforgivables are both emotion-based casting. When you first learn them, it takes a lot to build yourself up to the place you need to be to produce results. After some repetition, your mind and magic learn the feeling and settle into it more easily. So being able to cast the cruciatus today even though you couldn't after Sirius died doesn't mean that you were angrier today."

That made sense. Harry still didn't feel good about cursing Seamus, but he was a little less afraid of himself. He stayed in Remus' office for about an hour in total, feeling like he was in a parody of his third year.

 

Back in the Head's suite, Parkinson was in the sitting room writing an essay. Harry disappeared momentarily into his room, and came back with a bottle of Firewhiskey and a glass. Parkinson looked up at him as he poured himself a generous serving, dried the ink on her essay with a spell and rolled up the parchment. "Well, pour me some."

Harry was surprised she was willingly speaking to him. "Sorry?"

"I'm not leaving you to drink alone, Potter, so pour me a glass."

Harry shrugged and summoned another clean glass from his room. He poured her a share, which she sipped while he drained his own. By the time Harry was ready to sleep, the bottle was gone and Parkinson had yet to finish her own. 


	31. The Horcrux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My computer is broken, so sorry for the lack of updates on any of my stories but that's why. This is being written on my phone, but it takes me longer and I'm more likely to make mistakes this way. Nothing is abandoned, though!
> 
> Semi-detailed mentions of past child abuse in this chapter.

Each day at Hogwarts, Harry found himself required to punish other students who spoke against their professors or the Dark Lord, typically with the cruciatus curse. The most frequent offenders were former DA members, and Harry hated having to punish them. He did, though, because not to would be a betrayal of the Dark Lord and because his punishments ended much more quickly than those of the Carrows. Based on the hateful looks Harry received, his former friends didn't agree with his logic. 

Each night, the guilt weighing heavily on his mind, Harry found himself turning to a bottle of firewhiskey, shared with either Parkinson or Remus. Since the first night, he hadn't gone through a while bottle at once. He considered that a success.

The first Saturday of term, Harry was just sitting down in Remus' quarters when his Mark burned. He hissed in pain  and set down the unopened liquor bottle with a thud.  "Will you wait up for me?" 

Remus gave him a sympathetic look. "Of course, Pup."

 

Harry knew he didn't need his mask or cloak, so he went immediately to the gates to apparate. He didn't see anyone else from the Inner Circle on his way, which surprised him. 

Following the Mark, Harry apparated directly into the Dark Lord's study at Malfoy Manor and immediately dropped to his knees.

"Rise." Harry stood, keeping his head bowed respectfully, and waited for the Dark Lord to tell him why he'd been called. He didn't have to wait long. "I have come to some conclusions about the connection forged between us. You carry a horcrux of mine within your own soul. Dumbledore was almost certainly aware of this fact."

Harry's eyes widened in shock, and he remembered the Dark Lord's words that spring.  _Dumbledore would indeed have sent you to your death._ Suddenly, Harry was more relieved than ever at the choice he had made. 

"The horcrux within you has intertwined with your soul to the point where removing or destroying it could only be done with your death. It is also such that if your soul were bound to the earth, the piece of mine you carry would remain as well."

Harry realized where this conversation was going, and his heart jumped into his throat. "My Lord?"

"You are to make a horcrux of your own, in order to better safeguard mine. You will have two weeks to carry out this order."

"Yes, my Lord," Harry replied. His voice shook almost imperceptibly. Just as the Dark Lord was about to dismiss him, a thought occurred to Harry. "My Lord?"

"Yes?"

"Am I only to make one horcrux? I remember you saying to Slughorn that one didn't seem very secure, and I have to agree."

The Dark Lord thought for a short moment. "Do what you will, so long as you make at least one. Send word when it is done, and remember that you have only two weeks. Dismissed."

"Yes, my Lord."

Harry bowed before leaving the room, his mind racing as he made his way to the entrance hall of the Manor. He felt no need to split his soul into seven pieces as the Dark Lord did, but really did feel like one safeguard wouldn't be worth it. If he was going to split his soul anyways, he would do it effectively. The Dark Lord had chosen seven as the most magically powerful number, but Harry knew just enough arithmancy to know that three was also significant. A three-part soul would mean two horcruxes, which meant two deaths. Harry didn't even have to pause to choose his victims. The ritual for creating a horcrux required the killing to be done selfishly, and there was conveniently enough exactly two people in the world that he truly wanted dead. Petunia and Vernon Dursley had provided him with a sort of protection for years by allowing him in their home for the blood wards. Whether that protection was worth the cost was debatable, but now they would be used to protect his life in another way.

With that decided, Harry apparated to the gates of the school and started walking back to Remus' quarters. Next he needed to decide what objects would house his soul. The Dark Lord had used objects of personal and magical importance. While Harry could see the logic of that, he also thought it could be more discreet to use something ordinary. Since he'd decided on two horcruxes, Harry figured he could do one of each. The objects that were turned into horcruxes were fortified by the magic of the ritual, proven when the Diary had survived Ginny's attempt to flush it down a toilet so many years ago, so Harry didn't need to consider durability in making his choice. 

For an object of personal importance, Harry decided on his Firebolt. It was one of his most precious possessions, given to him by Sirius whose death had been a part of what drove Harry to where he was now. It also represented a simpler time. Corrupting it with such Dark magic was either twisted or poetic, depending on your point of view. For something mundane, Harry chose an old Divination textbook. There were hundreds if not thousands of copies of the same books, so it would draw no attention if someone ever sought out his horcruxes, and the connection to prophecy made Harry chuckle bitterly. 

He was almost to Remus' quarters at this point. Harry knew it was possible to make two horcruxes at once; the Dark Lord had done it, after all. He also knew, though, that the ritual would be painful and exhausting. The Dark Lord had been alone when he created his horcruxes, but Harry was not so guarded that he couldn't trust someone to care for him in the aftermath. He gave the password to the portrait that guarded Remus' room and went inside. 

"I need your help."

When Harry drunkenly stumbled back to his room that night, he thought absently that it was a good thing the Dark Lord didn't know about his newfound self-destructive streak. He hadn't been caring very well for the horcrux he unknowingly carried.

 

It took Harry two days to prepare. His Firebolt and Divination textbook were both in his trunk, despite not actually needing the book at school for the last year. Harry hadn't yet gotten used to having somewhere safe he could leave his things. A suitable dagger was found in the Room of Hidden Things. The most difficult part of the preparations was brewing a potion that would prepare the objects to become horcruxes. 

Professor Snape provided the ingredients once Harry told him he was on orders from the Dark Lord, though he seemed skeptical that Harry could brew anything usable. Luckily, the recipe in  _Secrets of the Darkest Art_ was simple. Honestly, a second year could probably brew this potion as long as they had gloves to protect them from the more toxic ingredients. It was just that no child should ever have to do something so Dark. The final ingredient to the potion was a significant amount of Harry's own blood, and once it was added the finished potion turned the promised poison green. Harry filled the necessary two vials and vanished the rest before staggering to the infirmary for blood replenishing potions. Poppy gave him a reproachful look, no doubt thinking about the various uses for human blood, but healed him anyways. Her Oaths demanded it.

 

The following weekend, Remus accompanied Harry to Privet Drive. Harry hadn't told him what exactly he was doing, only that he would need help afterward, and was fairly confident that Remus wouldn't recognize the Dark ritual. Still, he hesitated on the front lawn. "If you'd rather wait outside for me, you could. This won't exactly be my finest moment."

Remus looked at Harry patiently. "I joined the Dark Lord for you, Pup. It won't change anything."

A determined set to his face, Harry nodded. He didn't bother knocking as he walked into Number Four, where Vernon and Petunia were having breakfast. Harry was glad Dudley was at Smeltings. He didn't like his cousin any more than his Aunt or Uncle, but he'd been a child too. He wasn't to blame for his mistreatment of Harry to the same degree as the adults in the household. 

When Harry and Remus entered the kitchen, both Dursleys' faces contorted with rage. Harry quickly put both into a full-body bind so he could prepare. He opened the bag he'd brought along and began laying things out in silence. The Firebolt and textbook, the dagger, the two vials of potion, and his wand. Once the components for the ritual were neatly arranged and Harry felt his childhood tormentors had stewed long enough, he turned to face them. His voice was emotionless as he spoke. 

"I promised myself this summer that if I ever came back here it would be to kill you." He paused. "Don't worry, I haven't gone back on that promise. The two of you won't survive the day. No, the only question left to be asked is how long I'll make you suffer before killing you. The ritual I have to do today could be completed in minutes, but I want you to  _hurt._ I've tortured and killed so many people now, but with them I was only following orders. With the two of you, it's personal." Harry's voice hardened briefly before he continued in the same bland, matter-of-fact tone. "Last summer, I tried out a few new curses on the two of you. It was enough then, it had you reasonably cowed, but today will make the me of last summer seem weak. You see, Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, last summer I had to be discreet. The two of you had to be visibly unharmed, and any Order members guarding the house couldn't become suspicious. That isn't the case anymore. Dumbledore is dead. I killed him. The Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts are under the Dark Lord's control. I helped take over. I'm sure you'll both be ecstatic to hear that I've been made Head Boy at the school this year. My point is that I could take all day here and, since I'm acting on my Lord's orders, no one will stop me."

Harry smiled coldly at the relatives who brought him up and pointed his wand at them. " _Imperio._ " The creation of a horcrux required one to use all three Unforgivable Curses, as their basis in soul magic was what made them impossible to shield against. "It's time the two of you had a taste of your own treatment of me. Uncle Vernon, you're going to cook every bit of food in the fridge. Since my cooking could never be good enough for you, you're going to punish yourself the same way you punished me after each thing you cook. You remember burning my hands on the range, yes? And you'll be throwing away what you cook. Don't you dare eat any of it." He turned. "Aunt Petunia, you will be doing the dishes as Vernon cooks. Don't forget the steel wool, or the bleach. If your hands aren't bleeding, then the dishes must not be clean."

Petunia and Vernon immediately went to their chores. While they worked, Harry carefully annointed both of his future horcruxes with the vials of potion. The poison green liquid glowed before soaking into the objects, leaving them radiating a feeling of power. Once he was finished, he chanced a look at Remus. The werewolf was glaring angrily. Harry was glad to note that the target of his ire was the Dursleys and not him. Harry was enjoying the grunts and whimpers of pain that came from his Aunt and Uncle as they went about their tasks with a single-minded determination. Their work under the imperius curse was so efficient that they were finished within the hour. Both seemed barely able to use their hands after the harshness of their 'chores.'

"A good start. If I could, I'd have you in the garden next. Unfortunately, the neighbors may notice and it would be an unnecessary complication. However, I can give you the impression of the hot sun i worked under." Harry then flicked his wand, targeting both victims with a spell that would gradually raise their body temperature. Left long enough, it could cause heat stroke and be fatal. Harry knew their deaths had to be caused by the killing curse, so he wouldn't allow it to go that far. Sweating from the artificial heat and not allowed to cool themselves, the Dursleys set about dusting and rearranging the house. Their hands bled, like Harry's often had as a child. When they finished, he ordered them into the cupboard under the stairs.

"It's a fair bit more cramped in there now than it was when you forced me to sleep there, I will admit, but you'll be there for so much less time that I think it balances out." Harry ended the imperius curse and his relatives immediately started looking for a way out. Packed so tightly into the cupboard, however, with Harry at the door with his wand out and Remus standing behind him, there was no escape. "It's a shame I can't give you the years of hunger you gave me. This will have to do as a substitute.  _Crucio._ " Harry's aunt and uncle were in such close contact that the curse caught them both. Based on their screams, Harry would guess that his cruciatus was a bit stronger than usual. It only made sense, given how much Harry hated the Dursleys. After two minutes, he ended the torture curse. "When I was sick, you left me to care for myself.  _Crucio._ You denied me company, convincing the neighbors and my teachers I was a delinquent.  _Crucio._ You denied me my heritage, and told me my parents died shamefully when they really died to save my life.  _Crucio._ You verbally abused me, calling me 'freak' and 'boy' until I might have thought it was my name.  _Crucio._ " Each torture curse was shorter, though no less painful, and the Dursleys screamed until their throats were too destroyed to make another sound. "I was a child. Innocent. I couldn't fight back. Now I can." Harry turned his wand to Vernon first. " _Avada Kedavra._ " He looked to Petunia. "Had you honored your sister's memory properly, I would have never come for you like this.  _Avada Kedavra._ "

Leaving the bodies in the cupboard, Harry walked back to the kitchen and picked up the dagger he'd taken from the Room of Requirement. A deep cut on his left palm, and he traded it for his wand. " _Revelio anima._ " The blood from his hand welled up, and formed an undulating sphere in the air before him. " _Secare anima._ " A portion of the soul-imbued blood split off, and Harry directed it to the Firebolt. It absorbed into the prepared broomstick, which glowed a deep purple before settling and looking no different than it had this morning. He repeated the process for the Divination textbook, then cancelled the soul revealing spell before collapsing to the floor.

 

Remus ensured there was no evidence of their visit and packed Harry's things as quickly as he could. With the bag Harry had brought over his shoulder, he picked up his pup and apparated them to the Three Broomsticks, where he was able to floo directly to his staff quarters. He transfigured the sofa into a bed and settled Harry on it in a comfortable position. The unconscious teen was feverish, but couldn't be given potions until he woke, so Remus set to work cooling him manually. 

It was the next morning before the fever broke and Harry found his way to full consciousness. Remus immediately gave him a Pepper Up and blood replenishing potions, then when he noticed the crease in Harry's brow his gave him a pain potion. Harry took them all gratefully. He still craved his usual morning potions, but he wasn't about to ask Remus for them. That would likely mean admitting he was dependent on them, which Harry refused to do. 

It was after lunch, delivered directly to them by the elves, that Harry was well enough to return to his own dorm. He thanked Remus earnestly before making his way there and dosing himself with the last potions he needed to feel normal. 

Finally, Harry wrote out a message to send to Malfoy Manor.  _It is done, my Lord._


	32. The DA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long gap in updates. My computer broke and I've only recently replaced it, and then I had a lot of school work to catch up on before I could get back to writing. 
> 
>  
> 
> I want to explain the logic behind Harry's and Voldemort's horcruxes, but I can't quite work it into the narrative of the story so I'm going to explain here. It's not like Voldemort would have explained it to Harry, and Harry doesn't have access to the information on his own. Feel free to skip it if you don't care.
> 
> My theory starts in canon at the end of fifth year, when Voldemort briefly possesses Harry via the horcrux. Canon said it was the purity of Harry's soul that made it impossible for Voldemort to maintain the possession. It isn't a major leap to suggest that during the final battle, Harry was able to come back from King's Cross and leave the horcrux behind for the same reason. Canon Harry does a few questionable things while they're on the run, but he is overall a good person. His soul is still pure, and would therefore repel Voldemort's horcrux. The protection from Lily probably played a role in keeping the two separate as well. 
> 
> This version of Harry has done a lot worse. He's tortured and murdered, and used Dark magic, and he has Voldemort's mark branded on his arm. His soul is no longer pure. He also didn't go back to the Dursleys for his last summer, which would have interfered with Lily's protection if Dumbledore is to be believed. I see no reason in this story to doubt Dumbledore's theories on the topic. So between the weakened or broken blood protection and the tainted state of Harry's own soul, he would no longer reject Voldemort's horcrux. That would allow the piece of Voldemort's soul to bind more tightly to Harry's own. The Mark also probably plays a role, and maybe even the Unbreakable Vow, because both bind Harry and Voldemort together irrevocably. 
> 
> So, by that logic, Harry would no longer be able to send Voldemort's horcrux on without dying himself. If Harry were to be hit by a killing curse now, if he even woke up in King's Cross, he would have to go on if the horcrux was going to die and if he came back the horcrux would come back with him. That's assuming Harry would even have that experience. Since we don't know if it was the presence of the horcrux, Lily's protection, Harry's mastery of the Hallows, the prophecy, or some combination of these that caused it, I don't know if he would. 
> 
> With Harry having horcruxes of his own now, his soul would not go on if he were killed, regardless of whether he woke up in King's Cross or not. Because the piece of Voldemort's soul is bound to Harry's, it would also stay. Harry's horcruxes are only his own - they don't have tiny fragments of Voldemort's soul in them - but the fragment of Voldemort's soul that Harry is carrying with him would stay tied to Harry's main soul when it became a shade like Voldemort was before his resurrection in Harry's fourth year. 
> 
> Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

Ginny disappeared midway through October. Harry didn't notice for a few days, so he couldn't say exactly when it was. He'd had no contact with Ginny aside from furious glares and reluctant punishments in the corridors since the school year began, and they shared no classes since she was a sixth year. Neville was gone a week later, which Harry noticed much more quickly since he was absent from class with the Gryffindors. 

 

Harry and Parkinson were called the the Headmaster's office, where Snape and the Carrows told them that six Gryffindor students from first and second year were missing along with Ginny and Neville, and as Head Boy and Girl they were being tasked with looking for them. Harry looked at the list of missing students. Four half-bloods and two purebloods from prominent Light families. No doubt they had run away or gone into hiding or both. Those would be the children suffering the most in the harsh environment Hogwarts had become. 

As Harry left the Headmaster's office, it occurred to him that he didn't necessarily have to put his full effort into the search. The order came from the school administration, not the Dark Lord. Harry couldn't get away with not punishing students because when he had been made Head Boy, the Dark Lord had ordered him to enforce the rules. The Dark Lord had never told him he had to make sure students were present for their punishments. 

A month ago, Harry would have taken that way out. However, since splitting his soul Harry had found his emotions changed. Dulled, mostly, with spikes of more volatile anger. Harry wasn't so insane as the Dark Lord (and the unfaithfulness in that thought made his Mark twinge with pain, but it was true). He supposed that was the difference between splitting your soul into three pieces and splitting it into eight. The change wasn't extreme, but it was noticeable. Harry was harsher and less forgiving in his punishments. He drank in the evenings out of boredom instead of guilt. He was willing to drag children back into an inhospitable situation when he didn't necessarily have to. 

 

Harry retrieved the Marauders Map from his trunk and activated it while Parkinson split off towards the astronomy tower. As if eight students could be living somewhere where classes were held without being found before now. He scoured the map, looking for Ginny or Neville. If he found one of them, he'd likely find all eight. The first years didn't know the castle well enough yet to stay hidden without help.

After twenty minutes of searching, he concluded that none of the missing students were on the Map. The only places in Hogwarts not on the Map were the kitchens (which had the entrance marked, but not the room itself), the Chamber of Secrets, and the Room of Requirement. Harry was the only person currently in the school who could access the Chamber and he assumed that the Headmaster would know if the students were camping in the kitchens, so that left the Room. 

It made sense, when Harry thought about it. The DA had met in the Room of Requirement and Ginny and Neville were probably the most prominent DA members still at the school, not counting himself. Plus, the Room would be able to give them beds and access to toilets without ever entering the corridors. They probably had a whole apartment, or a dormitory and common room. 

 

Harry walked briskly to the seventh floor. The door to the Room wasn't there, but he hadn't expected it to be. The students needed a better hiding place than a door that anyone could happen upon.

Harry paced back and forth where the door would appear, trying different requests as he did.  _I need the room where the missing students are hiding. I need to find the missing students. I need a place to hide. I need a safe place._ Nothing worked. Either Harry wasn't close enough to the request that Ginny and Neville had made, or the Room could sense his insincerity. Still, the fact that the room didn't appear confirmed that they were there. He went back to the Headmaster's office to report what he knew.

 

In the following weeks, DA members continued to disappear and take the younger members of their houses with them. Hannah Abbot and Susan Bones from Hufflepuff. Padma Patil and Cho from Ravenclaw. Ravenclaw lost the fewest students of the three houses, as there were several Grey and Dark families who traditionally sorted there whose children would be doing okay. It seemed like two students from each house had been chosen to get younger children to safety, while the others stayed to protect those that didn't hide. Lavender, Seamus, the Creevy brothers, and Pavarti Patil in Gryffindor. Terry Boot, Michael Corner, and Luna in Ravenclaw. Finch-Fletchley in Hufflepuff.

Harry couldn't decide if he was surprised or not that Luna hadn't gone. Her breezy attitude often got her in trouble with the new professors, but maybe years of being bullied in her own house had thickened her skin. He and Luna hadn't spoken this year, but she didn't glare at him the way others did. Harry wasn't sure if that was indicative of some level of odd understanding, or if a glare was simply too harsh of an expression for her. He remembered seeing determination on her face when she studied and dueled in the DA, but never anger. 

 

They were probably using Hermione's galleons to communicate how and when to get into the Room, or maybe one of the Ravenclaws had been able to replicate the method. Harry hadn't kept his coin, so he didn't know. Nighttime patrols were increased, especially in the vicinity of the seventh floor, as the professors tried to catch the fleeing students. Harry couldn't fathom how they were doing it without the Map or an invisibility cloak, but no one was caught as students continued to disappear. The Carrow twins were frustrated, and it came out in their teaching. Harry hadn't realized the two could get meaner, but they did. 

 

Towards the end of November, the 'search' was given up. It had been two weeks without any new disappearances and it seemed like all of the students who were going to run were gone. The house elves had long since been ordered not to deliver food to the Room of Requirement in a failed attempt to starve them out. The Room couldn't make food, but they must be getting it without leaving somehow. None of the staff or prefects ever saw the door to the Room appear. The missing students, now numbering twenty-six, were removed from the student roster. They wouldn't be able to take qualifying exams in Magical Britain when they eventually left, not that they were likely to want to. If they made it out of Hogwarts, they would probably move abroad and finish their education in a country that wasn't currently ruled by a Dark Lord and his puppet government.

The Carrows eventually calmed again, as much as it was possible for them to do so. The atmosphere in Hogwarts returned to the same level of unease that it had had in September. Harry and Remus resumed their regular evening meetings, which had been much less regular while they were both heavily involved in the search. Everything was normal.


	33. The Letter

Harry was surprised one morning early in December to get an owl. He hadn't gotten any letters all term, since Remus was the only person who he'd expect to hear from and he was at the school. In fact, Harry was fairly certain that being called by the Dark Lord and reading the  _Prophet_ were his only contact with the world outside of Hogwarts' wards. The bird wasn't one he recognized, but scans showed that the letter was clean of any dangerous spells or substances. Harry put the letter in his bag and went to class, deciding to read it later in private, and promptly forgot about it. 

 

Harry didn't think about the letter or the owl again until the next evening, when he was having tea and firewhiskey in Remus' office. "Who was it from?"

"Who was what from?" Harry asked, confused. Remus' question seemed to come from nowhere.

"The letter yesterday. I was surprised to see you get an owl."

Harry startled. "I don't know. I forgot all about it, actually." His bag was on the floor, and he fished the now slightly crumpled parchment out of it. He had barely looked at it the previous morning, aside from casting the detection spells, but now that he did he recognized her handwriting immediately. His heart twisted, the feeling of guilt rare these days. "Hermione," he choked out.

Remus only raised his eyebrows, and after a moment's hesitation Harry broke the seal on the envelope. There was a large ink blot at the first line, as if she hadn't been able to decide how to begin.

 

_Harry,_

_Ron thinks I'm mad for writing you. Maybe I am. I still hate what you did and what you're doing. I'll never be okay with it. But I've heard about Professor Lupin, and it made me think. I've always respected him, you know, and it hurt when Ron told me he was working at Hogwarts and had the Mark but it also made me think. Ron also told me something Professor Lupin told him after I left, and even though I hate it, I'm beginning to understand. Maybe you're just taking care of yourself in an impossible situation._

_I also did research on prophecies. What you told us was sound. I hate what you're doing, but I think I hate the circumstances that pushed you into it more._

_I miss you, Harry. I don't know if you know what I did, but I'm attending Ilvermorny in America. My parents are living in a house I bought in Massachusetts. The classes here are wonderful. There's much more variety than Hogwarts has, and no Professors Binns or Snape. I'm reluctant to insult a teacher, but I can't help but prefer the ones here over those two._

_I'm lonely, though. That's why I finally broke down and wrote to you, even if it is mad. It seems I'm still a bit socially awkward, and I'm having trouble making new friends. It's like first year all over again, except this time everyone else has been in tight-knit social groups for years and there's no troll to speed things along. I write to Ron often, but he can't write back as frequently. He's busy doing something I can't tell you about._

_I've spent weeks wondering if there's any way we could be anything like friends, and I really don't know. I'm torn between wanting the friendship we've always had, and everything I've felt since last spring. I decided I had to try, though. If you don't write me back, or if we can't get past this, then at least I'll know. And if we can, then I won't feel so alone. I want to write and tell you all about what I've been learning, but it would be a bit uncomfortable while I don't even know if you'll respond. I suppose I'll end this here, then, and if I hear back from you then you can expect a longer reply. I sent this letter through the international post at the American Ministry. They assured me that Britain has a similar program, so Hedwig won't have to fly across the ocean._

_Hermione_

 

A second ink blot formed above Hermione's signature. Harry's throat was tight with tears he refused to shed when he looked up at Remus, who had been waiting patiently while Harry read the letter. "Am I like Wormtail?"

The question gave Remus pause. He had, after all, had similar thoughts of himself when he contacted Severus. Neither he nor Harry spoke to Petigrew or had forgiven him for the Potters' deaths. "On the surface, perhaps," he finally said. Before Harry could react, Remus clarified. "Both you and Peter made the choice to join the Dark Lord while your friends fought against him. But Wormtail - he manipulated Sirius and I against each other, and destroyed the trust between us. He put himself into the position of your parents' Secret Keeper so that he could deliver them to the Dark Lord, and he allowed Sirius to go to prison for him. Did you ever look to harm the people you were close to the way Peter did?"

Harry nodded silently, taking in Remus' words. "I joined the Dark Lord out of desperation, like Wormtail, but I negotiated my friends' safety instead of causing their deaths."

Harry and Remus sat in silence for a few minutes before changing the topic of conversation.

 

It took Harry two days to decide to send a reply to Hermione, and even longer to actually write it. The initial strength of his emotional reaction to hearing from her had dulled, but Harry's drinking and potions use took a significant upturn while he left the letter unanswered.

 

_Hermione,_

_I didn't expect to hear from you again after everything. Remus had told me about your move to America. I'm glad you're safe. Don't tell me anything about Ron. If I don't know, I can't tell anyone._ _I honestly don't know if we can be friends. I've changed after everything I've done. I'm willing to try if you are, though. If you still are after this letter. I'm going to be honest with you about what's going on, at least at first, or else what's the point of trying to be friends? It's happening, and I can't ignore it._

_Hogwarts is different this year. Worse, most would say, but my position makes it different for me than for anyone else. I'm Head Boy, with Parkinson as Head Girl. I was worried at first, but she's decent to me. I outrank her. A bit over half of the students over sixteen are Marked, including her. Every two months, more people who've just turned old enough take the Mark. Snape is Headmaster now, and mostly lets the professors handle things. Binns is gone, but History of Magic isn't any better. Most of the professors are Death Eaters now. The Carrow twins share the Deputy Head position, and essentially have free run of the school with Snape keeping to himself. History of Magic and Muggle Studies are required courses, but they're all propaganda. I usually skive off. I know the party line, and I'm not exactly concerned about getting a NEWT in that nonsense. Students are punished with the cruciatus curse. It's the standard now - I have to do it too. At first I hated it, but now I've gone numb I suppose. I think this year has proved that you can get used to anything._

_Most of the old DA members have disappeared. No one could find them, even with me heading the search. I often wish I hadn't listened to you and started that group. The members are only getting themselves hurt, now, and most of them wouldn't have fought back if I hadn't taught them to. The students who don't fight back have it easiest here. There are no muggle-borns at Hogwarts anymore. They aren't allowed. I imagine there will be some sort of integration plan put into place eventually - the size of this year's first year class proves that this isn't sustainable -  but I doubt it'll be a fair solution for them. I try not to think about it. It isn't my job._

_I spend most of my free time with Remus. He's here as Head of Gryffindor. He keeps me going. I frighten myself sometimes, with the ways I've changed and the things I've gotten used to doing, and he keeps me grounded. When my orders are difficult to follow through on, he supports me. I don't know if I'd have lasted this long without Remus. A lot of people would probably be pleased to have one less Death Eater around, but I've proven I can be a bit selfish in life-or-death situations._

_I don't plan to be an auror anymore, which I doubt will surprise you. I haven't figured out what I want to do instead, though. I've lost the patience that I had for teaching in fifth year. It will also depend on what the Dark Lord plans for me, since I can't go against him. If he allows it, I'll probably study for a mastery in something just to put off a career choice a little longer._

_I'm glad that you're somewhere safe, away from this madness. I hope you're also happy, even if you are a bit lonely. If you decide you can't handle writing to me, please let me know so that I'm not waiting. I hope to hear from you soon._

_Harry_

 

 

Hermione did write back. She expressed horror and a surprising amount of sympathy for the current state of Hogwarts, and was characteristically enthusiastic about Harry continuing his education. Her descriptions of her new school made him smile, but her writing did dance awkwardly around asking him about his life. Harry didn't know what that meant, but he wrote back to her as best he could. They would wait and see where this would go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized while writing Hermione's letter than Hedwig never dies in this story. I hadn't thought about it up til then, but it was a pleasant realization. Hedwig deserved better.


	34. The Norm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Hello! This story is getting an update, wow! It's been over five months, and I am sorry for that.
> 
> I was working on a side story to this universe focused on the Order's transformation into an underground resistance, but my computer crashed and I lost it all. So that's a partial explanation for the long gap in updates. The other part is that I was in my last semester of college (and I'm American, so I mean college by our definition of the word and not a British one) and I am mentally ill, so all of my energy went into making sure I graduated.
> 
> I did! I graduated! To celebrate, I'm going through all of my works that are not on hiatus but have started to feel like they are and updating them. (To be clear for those who read more than one of my stories, the only works I have that are actually on hiatus are Four Sortings and Everywhere to Me/In the Cold, Cold Night. Everything else is just me being awful.)
> 
> The planned side story about the Order will come eventually, but re-writing things is hard for me so I decided to table it for the moment and come back to it once this universe had some life in it again.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy the update, and I plan (hope) to be more active in this universe from here on out.

As December progressed, and winter well and truly set in, students were forced more and more to stay within the castle. As it did every year, this led to tensions rising and tempers shortening for the students. Unlike previous years, however, the conflicts that were borne from this restlessness were shut down with curses and other corporal punishments.

Filch was in his own sadistic heaven, his chains and flogging tools that he'd kept maintained for years were getting use at last. 

Harry was quick to curse a fellow student looking for a fight, and to give detention with Filch or one of the Death Eater professors to those who succeeded in finding one. Remus typically took his own detentions when he caught students' misbehavior, his detentions were more merciful than the Carrows, or Selwyn, or Rosier, but he gave no censure to Harry for the choices he made.

Harry appreciated that - the other professors who had stayed on with the change in power didn't give him the same consideration, but Remus understood certain things about how Harry had changed, by choice and by force, better than anyone else. He understood the desperation that could drive someone who was usually good into the Dark Lord's ranks, and how once you were a Death Eater you were expected to act the part. He also understood that much of Harry's coldness had come on after the day they had gone to Privet Drive. Even if he didn't know the specifics of the ritual Harry had performed, and Harry had asked him not to go looking for it for his own safety, he knew that it had changed Harry somehow, changed his capacity for empathy. It wasn't completely gone, but it was deadened, and anyone who didn't know about the ritual performed that day would assume it was entirely Harry's fault.

Maybe, if you considered things as a chain of events and not in isolation, it was.  _I chose this_ had been Harry's mantra in the days and months following his decision to join the Dark Lord; a reminder that even as events made him want to cringe away, they were evidence that his life was his own. That mantra had fallen by the wayside after Harry had made his own horcruxes. The limitations on his empathy meant he was horrified by his surroundings much less often, and on the occasions that it still happened he found solace in chemically-induced states instead of free will.

The mantra made a resurgence in the wake of Hermione's letter, and as the two continued to correspond. Harry still cared about his friends. He was not so far gone that the people who he'd chosen to save, his most important people, had become meaningless to him. He avoided thinking about Ron and Hermione before that letter arrived because it was painful that they were lost to him, and with no one mentioning them and other things to take his time he was rather successful at it. Harry's limited empathy, however, found an anchor in those people once Hermione's letter brought them to the forefront of his mind again. Hermione's horror, sadness, shock, and dismay at the state of Hogwarts and Magical Britain reminded him that he'd felt the same way, reminded him that there were horrors here that he'd become desensitized to with repeated exposure and the effects of horcruxes. Writing to Hermione made Harry remember that disgust and guilt he'd felt in September, and feel a shadow of it again.  _I chose this_ was once again something that went through his mind, that he needed to remind himself of.

 

The letters to Hermione tapered off quickly. There was too much that couldn't be said on both sides.

Hermione could not talk about Ron and the Order, which was the only news she had of Britain and their previously shared interests. Writing about her classes and her experiences in America could only go so far, when Harry had never been a strong academic and had no intentions of crossing the ocean to the states. 

Harry could not talk about his missions from the Dark Lord, and talking about the life he was living now only served to upset both of them.

When Hermione wrote, just before the start of winter holidays at both schools, that it would be best for them to discontinue their correspondence, Harry couldn't help but agree. On top of the fact that the letters were uncomfortable and awkward for both of them, it probably put them both in some danger to be in contact. There were no laws or orders conflicting with it, but maintaining a relationship with a _mudblood_ wouldn't help Harry's position with those in power in society or the school. Too, the Dark Lord had promised safety to Hermione, but there was no guarantee that someone wouldn't act against her without his consent because of her association with Harry. Not staying in contact would be easier and safer for both of them, really.

 

Writing to Hermione did make Harry realize he was a bit lonely, however. He didn't really have any friends left, either. He had Remus, who was a mentor and an invaluable anchor, but was not someone Harry was on the same level with. Parkinson was a warm body when Harry needed company without conversation, but they certainly weren't _friends_. She spent time with him out of a mild duty and a larger ambition, because he outranked her within the Death Eaters and aligning herself with him was an easy way to gain a degree of safety and power. Others Harry interacted with were largely limited to Prefects or other Death Eaters - with whom some varying degree of comradeship but absolutely no social connection - or students he was punishing.

Harry recalled the overtures made in September by students looking to align themselves with him. It wasn't the same kind of friendship he'd once had, but it had potential for a type social interaction. It was worth following up on those overtures at least.

That would wait until after the holidays, however. It wasn't a good time to be forging new connections now, when as many students as possible were about to leave the school for several weeks.

 

"You've signed up to stay at Hogwarts over break," Remus said to Harry when he entered the Head's office one night. "You know the Head Boy and Girl aren't required to stay, don't you want a break from acting as an enforcer?"

"So I can sit alone in my empty house?" Harry asked as he dropped into a seat. "I've got no one outside these walls, Remus, you know that. The only person I could want to spend Christmas with right now is you, and you'll be here."

Remus nodded as if he'd suddenly understood something. "I am not required to stay in the castle for the holiday, either. And I'd quite like a break, if you're willing to host me in that empty house of yours."

"But- You're Head of Gryffindor. All of the Heads of Houses have always stayed, I've had enough Hogwarts Christmases to know _that_."

"Yes, and in past years I would have been required, but- I know you haven't been to Gryffindor Tower this year, but surely you've noticed that it isn't exactly a large house right now?"

Harry nodded. It would be hard not to notice that. Gryffindor had shrunk at the beginning of the year, losing all of its muggle-borns, some older students who had decided to fight instead of learn, and some younger students whose parents wouldn't let them come back even if they wanted to. Then Gryffindor had also taken the most losses when students had started to disappear, being both the house most naturally predisposed to fight against the new professors and the largest group of former DA members. The only reason there were any Gryffindors left aside from the few who fitted well into the Dark Lord's rule was that it was also the house most predisposed to stubbornly staying in a harsh and dangerous environment.

"Well," Remus continued, "It's been decided that the house is small enough that I don't have to stay over the break if I don't wish. And truthfully, Harry, I don't."

"It is pretty exhausting, living like this."

"So, shall I take your name off the list and plan on spending the holiday together properly?"

"Yeah," Harry said, with a genuine smile. "Sounds brilliant."

 

There was an aspect of home maintenance that Harry hadn't considered when he bought a house shortly before going back to Hogwarts, thereby leaving his new house completely empty for nearly half a year.

It was filthy.

Dusty, really, more than dirty, if you wanted to make the distinction. The distinction made Harry feel a bit better, so he made it. A thick layer of dust coated every surface. Harry's nose tickled relentlessly from the moment he stepped in. Remus' more sensitive nose reacted even worse and his sneezing fit kicked more of the dust into the air, triggering Harry's own sneezes and coughs as he pushed the older man back out the door.

"You own a house elf," Remus said incredulously once his respiratory system had recovered.

"I forgot the house would need cleaning," Harry said sheepishly. "The last order I gave to him was to stay in Grimmauld Place and not leave there or communicate with anyone without an order from me." Remus raised an eyebrow. "Kreacher hates me and would betray me in the blink of an eye given a chance. Those orders were given when my changing sides still needed to stay secret. Since then, well, out of sight out of mind?"

Remus shook his head a bit. "Perhaps call him now, tell him to clean the place up and then find something for him to do now that he doesn't know any damaging secrets about you?"

Harry nodded, but didn't immediately call the elf. Remus gave him a questioning look. "I'm trying to decide how many conditions I'll need to put on the order before I call him. I have to make sure there are no loopholes." After another few moments he nodded, and called Kreacher. 

The old elf appeared promptly, glaring at Harry with more venom than anyone would think a house elf capable of. 

"Kreacher, this is my house. It's in need of cleaning. Clean it, without damaging anything or removing any of my possessions or its other contents. If you follow this order _faithfully_ , I will allow you to serve one of the Black sisters instead of remaining isolated in Grimmauld Place."

A hint of calculation entered Kreacher's loathing gaze at the last addendum to the order. Harry knew he would much rather serve Bellatrix or Narcissa, and would also rather live somewhere with proper work to do, so it was a significant incentive to do the cleaning of Harry's house properly. "Yes, Master," Kreacher said before popping away.

 

Harry and Remus returned a few hours later, after a meal and some window shopping in Muggle London, to a blessedly clean house. After a careful inspection to be sure nothing had been stolen or damaged, Harry took out two sheets of parchment and wrote to both of the Black sisters whom Kreacher would consider a member of the family, inquiring as to whether they wanted him. He sent the letters off with Hedwig, who had arrived at the house while they were out.

"I'll have to buy another elf before we go back to school, if this situation is to be avoided in June."

"There's a Ministry office for it," Remus told him.

"Muggle London was- strange," Harry said, no warning given to the topic change. "So much has changed in Britain since summer, and all of those people are completely clueless to it."

"That's always how it's been, within living memory at least," Remus said. "The Statute has made sure of it."

 

The holidays were as someone would expect them to be. A bit dull without the busywork of Hogwarts life, and peaceful. Peace was something Harry couldn't say was truly a part of his norm, there was always tension and small conflicts at Hogwarts, and it was a nice change. 

Walking through Diagon Alley was interesting. Businesses there fell into three broad categories. First were those like Twilfit and Tattings, which submitted to the Dark Lord's rule and were therefore having no troubles. Second were businesses like Madam Malkin's, who had resisted and suffered for it. Some of those businesses were now empty shells, while others were only just still able to operate. The third category was only two businesses, as far as Harry could tell. Ollivander's and Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. These were businesses who had resisted, but managed to avoid negative consequences. For Ollivander's, it was because no one wanted to lose the famed and highly respected wand shop. For the twins' shop, it was because their brother was a cursebreaker who had warded the shop to the teeth. 

It almost made Harry regret not setting up a proper contract when he'd funded the twins' shop fourth year. He could be making money off that. It would be exceedingly awkward, though, and it wasn't as if Harry's Gringott's account was in trouble, so maybe it was better this way.

Christmas Day was spent quietly. Remus and Harry played chess and read, and ate and drank the refreshments provided by Mopsy, Harry's new elf. Narcissa had responded positively to Harry's letter about Kreacher, and Harry had pictured the things that woman could do with an elf that was loyal to her over her husband. From what Harry had witnessed the past two summers, Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy were in love but not above plotting against each other. 

Mopsy's former family had been killed by Death Eaters. Harry had worried that would cause some resentment - he didn't want  _another_ confrontational house elf - but Mopsy hadn't served that family generationally the way Kreacher had served the Blacks, and her loyalty was firmly with Harry as her new master and she was ecstatic to have work to do again. 

 

The second week of January, Harry and Remus boarded the Hogwarts Express feeling rested, though not necessarily looking forward to going back to the school. It was time, however, to go back to the norm.


End file.
